


It Must Be Something in the Rain

by theredherring



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Barista Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Florist Keith (Voltron), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Minor Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Shiro & Adam eventually get married, Slow Burn, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredherring/pseuds/theredherring
Summary: “He’s got these freckles on his face,” his eyes roaming Lance’s features again, “like stars on his skin that make up his own constellations."Wait."He's beautiful."Holy shit.“So beautiful,” Keith whispered, glancing at his lips, “that I could kiss him.”It's me. He means me.“Then kiss me.”





	1. Do You Like Walking In The Rain?

As Keith swept the floor for the fifth time that day, he let his mind wander. It had been a slow day.

Which wasn’t exactly unusual for this time of year, wedding season for them generally spanned from May-August, leaving September as the only quiet month for the shop. The calm before the storm, before they began with the fall rush of wreaths, pumpkins and various demands for festive flowers of orange, auburn and red aesthetics.

Keith normally worked the most around this time of year, as the lack of orders meant that Shiro could focus on other things – leaving the shop in Keith’s hands. This year specifically to focus on his own wedding.

Shiro had been engaged for years. He’d met his fiancé in college, having met one morning when Shiro – the chaotic man that he was – had been rushing to get to a class, after deciding he’d wait in line 10 minutes for a coffee when he was already late. He’d then proceeded to barrel right into someone with said coffee, covering the two.

That someone being Adam. Who, no matter how much he denied it, Keith had always thought was just as chaotic as Shiro.

They were the kind of couple that fuelled each-others dumb ideas – but overall, they were the most in love he’d ever seen anyone.

They were each other’s strengths, they propelled one another forward to do their best, always encouraging one another to succeed in everything they did.

They’d had similar career goals when they’re first met, both aiming for a job at the space exploration company The Garrison – Shiro to be a pilot, as well as a mentor for the younger pilots being trained there. Adam wanting to engineer space crafts and work on new technologies.

A few months after starting there, however, Shiro had been chosen to pilot a new fighter jet with another pilot. He and Adam had gone into a fight the night prior to the test, Adam had told Shiro the jet wasn’t safe to fly yet, the generals had dismissed him, pushing for a flight test before they finished all the necessary diagnostics to give the go-ahead.

Adam had tried to convince Shiro not to fly, but Shiro was determined to prove to himself that he could do it.

But like Adam had said, it wasn’t safe. The jet had crashed.

The other pilot had died.

Shiro survived, but he’d lost his arm in the accident.

The entire event had caused Shiro to suffer severely from PTSD. It was difficult, not only for Shiro but for Keith.

After the loss of their dad, it was one of the worst things he’d ever been through. He’d watched his strong, older brother grow into this great man and then crumble right before his eyes – him and Adam had done their best to help pick up his pieces, trying to help rearrange the broken man into the person he’d once been.

But they could only do so much to help him heal.

After a while, Adam left the garrison. With Shiro being unable to return Adam had decided to leave, for Shiro’s sake – choosing instead to take a path into teaching engineering, he’d managed to get a job at a local college and seemed to genuinely love what he was doing.

When Shiro was still in the care unit of the Garrison, someone had given him a small potted plant. As a kind of get well soon token.

He’d been popular at the Garrison, so everyone had sent their condolences, along with flowers, balloons, chocolates – all things he didn’t really need.

But he’d become transfixed with the flowers people had given him, specifically that one plant. It was an Aloe Vera plant, signifying healing and protection. At one point, Shiro had started to become obsessed with caring for it.

He’d started researching which temperatures the plant grew best in, the soil acidity, how much water it needed.

It was concerning at first, seeing Shiro so focused on such a small and simple thing. That tiny little potted plant. After particularly bad episodes, he’d just sit, asking questions every now and then on whether Adam or Keith though he should replant it, get a different coloured pot, small irrelevant things.

He’d spend his days watering the flowers in his room, cutting leaves and stems – researching all the different types of flowers there were and how best to care for them. It had scared him, the thought of Shiro staying this way, in this broken, detached state.

But then it seemed that, as the flowers in his room began to grow, as the aloe vera plant grew – so did Shiro.

Growing those flowers had helped Shiro a lot with his recovery, coming to terms with things. As much as Adam and Keith had done their best to help him, it was Shiro who’d got himself where he needed to be.

He’d found something that had made his days more bearable, giving him an outlet for the darkness he’d held inside of him, focusing instead on the colourful blooms that filled his room.

After years of working towards having some semblance of a normal life, he’d used the money the garrison had given him – a compensation to pay him off, instead of taking accountability for what they’d done – and opened up his own flower shop. 

 _Atai Ito._ Or, in English,  _Red Thread._

Keith had been one of the young, training pilots when Shiro had first opened the shop – the best in his class actually. But one day one of his teachers had made a comment about Shiro that had sent Keith into a blind rage.

He’d ending up punching the teacher, which resulted in him getting booted from the Garrison.

After that, he’d ended up working with Shiro at the shop, finding he genuinely loved it there. Learning the flower types, arranging bouquets, the calm day-to-day – being with his brother. It was nice.

He looked up at the aloe vera plant on the back shelf of the shop, right under the neon sign of the store name, and felt a small sense of pride.

It was home to him.

He though about how happy Shiro had been this morning when he’d left Keith, telling Keith was to do when he locked up, what needed cleaning, “Yeah, yeah. Shiro, _go_. I know what I’m doing.”

There had been a glow about him that he’d missed. It was a relief to see his brother looking alive again.

They’d gone cake tasting – which had Keith kind of envious, he’d rather be trying a variety of cakes than sweeping the same square foot of floor for the next 4 hours whilst he waited around for a customer.

Deciding he was tired of listening to the peaceful, chiming music that usually played throughout the shop – he went to his phone, changing from the default playlist Shiro had made and switching over to his own. As long Shiro didn’t find out, he’d been fine.

It was raining outside, making the shop seem like a separate world – the lights around the room giving a warm glow, contrasting the dark, grey of the weather. Feeling like it was fitting, he chose a calm playlist full of all the shitty indie music he liked to listen to on days like these.

He went back to his cleaning, this time behind the counter, clearing odd bits as he went, trying to neaten things up. Mainly just to keep himself busy to pass the time.

At some point he’d gotten so into cleaning, his thoughts and his music, that he hadn’t heard the bell on the door go. Continuing to sing along to the song that was playing, whilst he wiped down the shelves under the sign – wiping underneath the various pots they kept there.

_Bring me to your house._

He picked up a pot of white heather, wiping the dirt off the shelf and onto the floor so he could quickly sweep it up once he’d finished. He began to sing as he went.

_Tell me 'sorry for the mess'._

_Hey, I don't mind._

_You're talking in your sleep._

_Out of time-_  

“Well, you still make sense to me. Your mess is mine!” Keith yelped, the potted plant in his hand falling to the floor, shattering – dirt spreading across the floor.

He moved to shut off the music then looked up at the source of the voice. “Jesus! _What the hell, man?_ ”

A tall guy with dark hair stood on the opposite side of the counter, his bright blue eyes contrasted his tanned skin, wet brown hair that curled against his face. There were raindrops scattered across his cheeks, along with a faint, but noticeable, number of freckles.

He’d clearly been caught in the rain, wearing a black sweatshirt, ripped blue jeans that were cuffed at the bottom and white sneakers, not an outfit suited for the downpour outside.

Honestly Keith was taken aback, by both the guy’s sudden presence and how attractive he was.

“Oh shit,” the guy said, in a panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you! I just liked the song so I, uh… chimed in.”

Keith sighed, looking down at the plant on the floor, he’d just re-potted it and it had finally started growing again. He turned back to the guy in front of him, as he composed himself, glaring at the guy as he grabbed the brush he’d been using earlier.

The guy winced, “Sorry.”

He picked up the plant and placed it into an empty pot nearby, delicately collecting the shards of porcelain in a pile.

The guy leaned on the counter as he did, looking over at the mess at Keith’s feet. “Do you want some help? I mean, it was kind of my fault.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, it was my fault, but do you want me to help or…?”

He sighed again, pinching his nose. He’d really under appreciated the lack of customers earlier. “Fuck. No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

He placed the shards into a bin under the counter, sweeping the dirt aside with the brush. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh…” the guy leaned back over the counter, as Keith put the brush aside. “I need flowers.”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” he said, nonchalantly, gesturing at the displays of flowers behind him. “You’re in the right place.”

The guy huffed, “Are you this nice to all your customers?”

If Shiro were here, he’d have probably already fired Keith. He’d already sworn in front of a customer, broken a plant and now he was being an asshole towards a possible sale, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The guy hummed in response to Keith’s sarcastic tone, giving him a suspicious once over. “I need a type of flower that has a specific meaning to it.”

He sighed, looking at the guy then back at the white heather that drooped sadly where it sat in the empty pot. The quicker he helped him, the quicker he’d be out of the store and Keith could work on rehoming the destroyed plant. Again.

“Okay,” he moved around the counter, walking towards the variety of flowers behind him. “What’s the occasion? Romantic, congratulatory…?” 

“Romantic!” The guy blurted, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks at the speed and volume at which he’d replied. “I need something that says I really like you and maybe we could start something together...? like a confession bouquet?”

Keith laughed, “A confession bouquet?”

“I don’t know!” the guy said, mildly hysterical. “This girl, she’s… like a goddess, you know? I have to get this right.”

Keith hummed, sceptical. He didn’t know. _At all._  

He’d always known he had absolutely no interest in any aspect of heterosexuality. So, girls? Nope. Not his thing, goddess or not, he’d never understand it.

But for the sake of a sale, he’d act like he could get behind this heterosexual’s agenda. “Well, I have a few things in mind. So, I can show you the flower, explain the meaning and then you can decide if any of them are anything she’d like? Okay?”

The guy nodded, following Keith to the display of tulips.

“Okay, so red is the best colour to go with, mainly because it signifies love – especially with flowers.”

“Right,” the guy responded, paying close attention. “Like with valentine’s day and roses.”

“Exactly.” He picked up a single red tulip from the display, handing it to the guy, “it’s also a strong signifier of passion, desire and strength. You could go with roses, but in this case the tulip is more unique.”

“Why?” “Well, for one, they’re not normally in season this time of year.”

“Then why do you have them?” the guy asked suspiciously.

Keith scoffed, “magic.”

The guy rolled his eyes, passing the flower back to Keith. “My brother grows them himself, a lot of flowers here are ones he’s grown.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But other than that, the Victorian interpretation for the flower is that it’s a declaration of love.”

“Ah. So, fitting for my situation.”

“Exactly. It also means believe in me, so maybe if you want her to know you’re serious about her?”

The guy hummed, “What else do you have, uh,” he looked down at the name tag on his shirt. “Keith?”

He snorted, covering his mouth.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he said, moving his hand away from his mouth, a smirk still on his face, “That’s just not what I expected your name to be.”

“What did you expect it to be?” Keith asked, unamused. _Wow, what a dick._  

“Akira?” he said, looking Keith over once again. “Killian? Maybe.”

“ _Killian_?”

“I don’t know,” the guy said, waving a hand in front of him. “Anyway, back to the flowers, what else you got for me, Keith?”

Keith rolled his eyes.

He spent the next 15 minutes taking the guy around the store telling him the various meanings of a variety of flowers. Ranging from Lavender Roses to Heliotropes. Each time he’d pull out a new flower the guy would pay close attention to everything he said, asking questions at various points when he didn’t understand something.

As much of an asshole, as the guy was, it was nice to have someone genuinely interested in what he was saying.

Most of the time guys would come in and get the first bunch of flowers he saw, or they’d be mainly interested in the price – which bunch was the best value for the cheapest price. Which Keith didn’t mind of course, he wasn’t made of money either – it was refreshing.

In the end, the guy settled on Keith’s first option with the addition of yellow tulips – that he’d explained meant hopeless love, but was also a symbol of friendship, the colour giving a message of new beginning and happiness.

It’d made the guy laugh, he’d said he liked how much it represented his feelings towards this whole thing and decided to add them into the red tulips.

The guy stood at the counter watching Keith, as he grabbed the red tulips and a small number of yellow tulips.

“So, what made you decide to tell her how you feel?” he asked, as he came to place the flowers on the work surface, hitting play on the music again so he could listen whilst he worked.

The guy sighed, leaning on the counter and putting his head in his hands.

“Honestly, I have no idea.” He furrowed his brows, seemingly thinking over his situation. “She’s my friend, so I wanna know if there could be something more between us? Or just to move on.”

“Move on?” he asked, cutting the stems of the flowers.

“Yeah. I mean, if she doesn’t like me back, I can start to work out my feelings and be the friend she needs me to be, instead of having this weight on my all the time. Get a sense of closure, I guess. I just don’t want to wait around for something that might never happen.”

“I guess so.”

The guy smiled then. A bright, teasing smile, “Bet you didn’t expect some guy coming into your store to reveal every aspect of his love life.”

Keith scoffed, “Believe me. It happens more often than you think.”

“And I’m sure you’re always the supportive florist.”

“Obviously,” he said, deadpanned.

They settled into a comfortable silence, Keith working on the bouquet of flowers whilst the guy leaned on the counter and watched him worked, humming along every now and then to the song that was playing.

Every so often, Keith would ask questions on what kind of paper or ribbon he’d like. When he’d finally finished, he stood the bouquet with his hands and asked the guy if everything was okay with it.

“Dude, it’s beautiful.”

“Great.” Keith said, “That’ll be $30.”

“Do you want me to pay for,” he pointed at the white heather. “uh, that?”

Keith shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m the one that dropped it.”

The guy hesitated, before taking out his wallet. He paused, looking up at Keith. “Do you have any flowers for gratitude?”

Keith’s distain must have been clear on his face because the guy laughed, shaking his head, “For a  _separate_ bouquet?”

Keith relaxed, glad he didn’t have to redo all his hard work on the bouquet in front of him – inevitably end up having to argue with the guy about not changing the bouquet now it was finished.

“Oh.” He moved around the counter again, “Well, a dark pink rose can mean gratitude…”

He moved round point at various flowers whilst the guy, stayed where he was, watching him, “there’s also bluebells, which are one of my personal favourites but-”

“I’ll take the bluebells,” the guy said, smiling.

“Blue’s my favourite colour.” He added, “Just a small bunch though.”

“Alright.” He said, grabbing a few stems and moving to work on the second, smaller bouquet for him.

After taming the bluebells into the right position, he wrapped the finished bouquet in brown paper - adding a piece of red thread around the middle to keep everything together, tying a bow for decoration. “Okay, so that’s 37 dollars all together.”

The guy hand over two twenties, taking the larger bouquet in his arm before Keith handed him his change.

“Thanks.” He said, after putting his change away.

He picked up the bluebells and held them out to Keith, “Here. As a sorry for making you drop your plant.” Keith didn’t know how to respond, he stood looking at the guy in front of him, who had a sheepish grin on his face, a small blush in his cheeks.

The guy nodded down at the bouquet he was holding out to him, gesturing Keith to take it. Keith looked down at the bluebells in his hand and silently took them from him.

“And a thank you for talking me through all the meanings of the flowers and stuff.”

He scoffed, “I was just doing my job, you didn’t have to.”

The guy shrugged, “Well, I did.” He said, taking a step back.

“Thanks, Keith.”

He turned to walk out the door, giving Keith a wave over his shoulder but then stopped at the entrance - suddenly reminded of the downpour he’d previously been in. Looking down at his still wet clothing, then back out at the rain.

He watched the guy for a moment, putting the bluebells on the counter and leaning his hands on the counter.

He felt a strange tug in his chest towards guy that stood at the door, looking cautiously at the falling rain on the other side of the window. It was like something out of a film, the way the guy was illuminated by the warm glow of the shop, the grey exterior seemingly framed in gold as the drops of rain streamed down the window. “Hey, uh…”

At that point, he realised he had no idea what this guy’s name was – which was obviously not unusual, people come in to buy flowers all the time and he’d never known their names. Unless there was an order or a request for a certain type of flower, he never needed to know, but this time that left a bitter taste in his mouth – that he’d never know this guy’s name.

The guy looked back at Keith, his eyebrow raised in question as Keith stood there, mouth agape.

After a moment of faltering, he bent down under the counter to pull out the red umbrella he kept there, moving to join the guy at the door.

“Here.” He said, handing him the umbrella. “You’re not exactly dressed for the rain.”

The guy waved a hand, “Dude, no, it’s fine-”

Keith raised an eyebrow in disbelief and took the guys hand, placing the handle in his palm. “And you don’t want to ruin the flowers before you can even give them to her, right?”

The guy laughed, as he took the umbrella. “Thanks.”

He adjusted the bouquet in his arm to ready to open the umbrella, as Keith opened the door for him.

As he stepped into the rain, he opened the umbrella, turning back to Keith to shout over the rain, “The name’s Lance, by the way!”

It was oddly endearing, this guy – Lance – with a grin on his face as he looked at Keith. It made his stomach flutter in a small sense of elation. He briefly thought about how, if the situation was any different, he’d have asked Lance for his number.

“I’ll return this,” he said, lifting the umbrella to gesture what he was referring to. “See you around, Keith.”

He put on a sly smile, both the thought of seeing Lance again an exciting and dreadful concept, “See you around, Lance.”

One last wave and the guy was gone, walking down the street to go confess his love to his friend. He shut the door, watching the rain from where he stood for a moment.

He had an odd feeling in his chest. Warm and airy.

He sighed, watching the rain hammer against the sidewalk as he stood in the open doorway of the store. Maybe it was something in the rain.

There was always that feeling that came with the rain, a contentedness that you didn’t get from any other kind of weather – it was like the world was being washed clean with each tiny droplet, giving you a new sense of hope, another chance.

At that thought, he glanced over at the yellow tulips on the display. shaking his head as he thought about that boy with the bright smile as he’d explained all the different meanings behind a single flower. That spark of curiosity he’d seen in his eyes as he’d handed him that first red tulip.

He picked up the bouquet of bluebells, smiling fondly. That was the first time a customer had ever bought him flowers. Especially not cute guys with bright blue eyes and dazzling smiles.

He looked over at the white heather and sighed, he’d better get to repotting it before another customer comes in and he doesn’t get the chance.

Before he started, he searched for a vase to place the bluebells in, finding a tall thin white one under the counter, he undid the paper, taking out the stems and placing them into the vase. Repositioning them until he felt they looked right.

When he was finished he took a moment to admire them, he thought about how the guy had looked in the rain – despite the outfit, he’d looked like he belonged, like each droplet was made for him, as if he was the reason the sky had opened up and soaked the earth in the cooling waters.

He thought about that smile.

_See you around, Keith._

God, he hoped so.

* 

As Lance made his way to the coffee shop, he felt oddly optimistic.

Despite getting on the wrong side of the moody florist, he’d really helped him – taking him through each flower in detail, telling Lance everything he wanted to know, no matter how many dumb questions he asked.

The guy had honestly seemed quite intimidating at first, he was exceptionally pretty, his dark hair contrasting his pale skin. His eyes had taken Lance aback a few times, they were a dark blue that seemed to shine violet in certain light.

He’d had this angry demeaner about him when he spoke, like human interaction was the last thing he wanted to be doing – but as soon as he’d taken Lance over to the tulips, he’d changed entirely. A hint of excitement in his words as he talked through the colours and origins of each flower.

It was mildly fascinating.

Lance had decided, whilst the guy – Keith – had been rambling about the differences between the colours of hydrangeas, that no matter the outcome of today, he’d come back.

Maybe, he’d be coming back to buy flowers for his first date with Allura. Maybe, he’d come back to tell the florist that his work had paid off. Maybe he’d come back in a new romantic endeavour, trying to win the heart of another girl. Another guy.

Maybe he’d go back no matter what, to learn more about the flowers and listen to the interesting florist talk.

He smiled and shook his head. He hoped it’d be the former rather than the latter.

He adjusted the flowers in his hand, the umbrella in the other. He’d forgotten about it for a second, he looked up at the red material, listening to the raindrops as they hit the surface. He had an umbrella to return, so he’d be back whatever happened.

As he reached the coffee shop, he scanned the inside looking for his friends. He spotted them at the large table, in the back corner. Allura wasn’t there yet.

Which was good, Hunk and Pidge had insisted they be there for emotional support. Allura was their friend too, after all. They wanted to be the first to know whether she’d say yes or not, Hunk was actually the one who’d suggested the flowers in the first place.

He took a deep breath and entered the coffee shop, awkwardly fumbling with the flowers whilst taking the umbrella down. Pidge noticed him as he made his way to their table, waving excitedly.

“Holy shit!” they said, as he neared the table. “Are they the flowers?”

He scoffed, “What did you think were, Pidge?”

“Oh, wow.” Hunk said, as he took a seat beside him. “They’re beautiful. You did good, Lance.”

Lance faked a sniffle, wiping his eye, “Thanks, Hunk. Buddy.”

He set the flowers on the table and placed a hand on Hunk’s arm. “I did my best to pick only the most beautiful flowers.”

“Pfft.” Pidge scoffed, leaning back in their chair. “You just chose the first ready made bouquet you saw. You can’t lie to us, Lance.”

Lance squawked, “I did not!”

“You totally did.” Hunk said.

Lance gasped, “Hunk, this is betrayal. I thought you said I did good!”

“Yeah, you chose a good bouquet.”

He sat back crossing his arms, closing his eyes, feigning a tantrum for the dramatic. “Well, I’m truly hurt. Neither of you have any faith.” He peaked open an eye to see Hunk and Pidge paying him no attention. Hunk taking a sip of his coffee, whilst Pidge scooped the whipped cream off her hot chocolate with a spoon, taking a mouthful.

He sighed, dropping the act. “Actually, the florist was a huge help. He took me through all the best options and helped me pick which flowers she’d like best.” He paused, thinking back at the guy he’d left in the door of the flower shop. “He was nice.”

“Well,” Hunk said, putting his cup down and poking at one of the yellow tulips, Lance lightly smacking his hand away. “I just hope she likes them.”

Lance sighed, “Me too.”

“You should probably hide them.” Pidge chimed in. “You know, so you don’t ruin the surprise.”

“Shit. You’re right.” He said, as he looked around in a slight panic for somewhere he could conceal the bright blooms that were laid out on the table.

Pidge rolled their eyes. “Just put them under the table, they’ll be fine.”

Lance nodded, taking the bunch in his hand and careful leaning down to put them on the floor. He checked over each flower, making sure they were all still in one piece, then moved to sat back in his seat properly, making sure his long legs weren’t near them in case he accidentally kicked them.

“Okay.” He said, taking a deep breath. “How do I look?”

“Terrible.” Pidge said with a devious smile.

“Ha. Ha.”

“You look fine, Lance.” Hunk said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. No matter what happens, we’re here for you.” He took another deep breath, feeling a lot calmer than before. Hunk always had that effect. Whenever Lance would start to spiral into a mess of his own insecurities, Hunk would say or do the right thing and he’d be able to breathe again. And Lance would do the same for Hunk. That was how their friendship worked, they supported one another, grounded one another. He was the greatest friend Lance could have asked for.

“She’s here.” Pidge said, making Lance yelp and shattering the sense of composure he’d just gained. “Oh no.”

“What?” Lance asked, cautiously.

Hunk turned around, whilst Lance stayed where he was looking between the two of them. “Oh.”

“What is it?”

Pidge looked at Lance with a look of sympathy, that got the better of his curiosity and he turned around to look.

He spotted Allura instantly, her long white hair pulled back in a ponytail. A thick line of pale blue eyeliner on the lids of her eyes, contrasting beautifully against her dark skin. She was always experimenting with her make-up - she’d sometimes run Lance through her method, often when she’d had an eyeshadow look Lance particularly liked and felt he might be able to incorporate into a look of his own one day.

She had on a pastel pink jumper, with white ripped jeans that were cut off at her ankles. It looked like she’d been in the same situation as Lance, where’d he’d left the house in the bright, warm weather and been caught in the downpour that had started around noon. Soaked head-to-toe.

She was still breath-taking. As always.

But then Lance realised she was laughing at something, or someone.

He noticed her hand intertwined with someone else’s. He followed the hand up to see another girl, with long blonde hair, that all the way down her back to her waste, eyeliner similar to Allura’s but hers was pink. She too was soaked, even more so than Allura, as she had on only a pair of denim shorts and a thin, see-through white shirt, making the bralette she wore underneath more noticeable as the shirt stuck to her torso. Unlike Allura she wasn’t laughing, instead she was pouting at Allura as she went into a fit of giggles.

Honestly, she was beautiful too.

He watched as Allura finally calmed down her laughing enough to lean in and place a small kiss to the tip of the blonde girl’s nose.  _Oh._

Lance felt he heart sink as he watched the blonde girl break into a blinding smile, grabbing Allura cheeks and pulling her into a kiss. Lance felt his heart sink as he turned back to the table.

“Oh man. Lance, I’m sorry.” Hunk said, as he placed a hand back on Lance’s shoulder.

He guessed that confirmed it. Allura had feelings for someone else. He thought about the flowers at his feet, about how much he’d wasted the florists time now that he had no one to give them to. Their meaning going to waste.

He supposed the yellow lilies really were relevant. Lance was always a hopeless romantic, this time was no different. The yellow stood for his friendship with Allura, nothing more.

He took a deep breath, composing himself before Allura inevitably came to introduce them to her new girlfriend.

“Lance?” He heard Pidge say softly. He looked up at her with the brightest smile, he could manage. She frowned, the sympathy in her features was clear.

Then he heard Allura’s voice, “Pidge, Hunk, Lance.” The smile in her voice prominent, as always.

She greeted each of them formally, as Allura normally did. It had been odd at first, but now it was an endearing quality that all of them grown fond of.

Hunk was the first to greet her, “Good morning, Princess.”

Coran, the owner of the coffee shop, had always referred to Allura as Princess, something that they’d eventually taken on as their own little nickname for her.

Coran was Allura’s uncle, he’d hired her a few years back - a little after Lance had started working there, a part-time job whilst he finished college, now his full-time. He’d started in hopes to earn a bit of extra money, helping to pay various bills and get through the months living off more than packets of spicy ramen. After his week there, however, he grew to love it.

Now, he was working towards getting the necessary training to become manager once Coran retired. He’d been thinking about it for a long time before Lance had started working there. He’d said he had such a way with customers, had such a unique way of working that he felt he was the perfect person to continue his work.

He was one of the first people to really see Lance’s worth and Lance would forever be grateful to him for that.

It had actually been how they’d first met. Allura had started working part-time to help Coran with the business, whilst she studied at Altea Tech. She had big dreams of helping to unite people through the work of technological advances. It was something Lance admired greatly.

He looked up at her, smiling brightly, switching to his usual demeanour he held whenever they interacted.

Lance ' _pretending'_   to be flirting and Allura acting disgust at the concept.

“Allura. Looking stunning as always.” She rolled her eyes, smile still present.

“Guys, this is Romelle.” She said, as she pulled the blonde girl forward with a tug of her hand. She looked at Romelle and her eyes softened, “She’s my girlfriend."

Hunk and Pidge seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“Hi!” Romelle said, chipperly. “Allura’s told me so much about you all! It’s great to finally meet you. Honestly, I’m pretty nervous, Allura’s told me stories and I’m quite worried that I’ll never fit in because from what she said you all sound really cool, and-”

Allura gave a light tug of her hand, which seemed to stop her rapid fire of words. “Sorry. I ramble, when I’m nervous.”

Hunk laughed.

“Don’t worry, we’re quite used to that.” looking at Lance. “Nice to meet you, the name’s Hunk.” He chimed in brightly.

“That’s Pidge.” He gestured across to Pidge, who waved as they took a sip from their hot chocolate.

Romelle smiled and waved back, “Nice to meet you, Romelle.”

Hunk gestured to Lance, “This is Lance. I feel like you two have a lot in common.”

Lance scoffed giving Hunk’s arm a shove. “It’s nice to meet you, Romelle! Please, ignore my friend Hunk, he’s a terrible person.”

Hunk gasped, “Lance!”

Romelle laughed at the small exchange between the two. “It’s nice to finally meet you too, Lance.”

He smiles back at her. She really is beautiful, and it makes his heart ache. She seems like a lovely person, he’s glad that someone like her will date Allura, make her happy.

“Are you ordering anything, Lance?” Allura asks, as she glances at the empty table in front of him. He decides to take this as his opportunity to leave.

“No, Princess.” He says, as he leans down to pick up the flowers. “I actually have a, uh, date.”

“A date?” Pidge asks, cautiously, with a look of concern.

He stands up flowers in hand, picking up the umbrella from where he’d rested it against the table leg, “Yeah. There’s this, uh, guy I met.”

He thinks back to the florist, he had met a guy today – an attractive one at that. But his mind had been entirely set on Allura, this moment, that he’d only seen going one of two ways: the start of a great relationship or rejection. As happy as Lance was for her, it still hurt.

“Oh!” Allura said, excitedly. “Good luck, Lance. Your flirting might not work on me, but I’ll bet this guy will love it.”

He doesn’t know why but he thinks of the grumpy florist again, “I’m not so sure about that.” He says with a small chuckle. “I’ll catch you guys later though.”

He’s glad he’s leaving when he catches a glimpse of Hunk’s big sad eyes, he gives him a small smile before making his way through the tables and other customers, out the door of the coffee shop. It was still raining.

He stood in the entryway of the shop, keeping cover and watching the rain for a few moments. Breathing deeply, the smell of city rain filled his lungs, before opening the umbrella and making his way home.


	2. With Every Piece in Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There,” Keith said, as he placed Lance’s piece of the thread in his hand. “Now you can remember that, even though that girl wasn’t the one for you, you’ve got someone out there that’s destined for you, or whatever.”
> 
> Lance blushed, “Really?”
> 
> “Of course.” Keith said, pointing at the thread, “There’s your proof.”
> 
> It didn’t occur to either of them that that thread in particular, had led directly to Keith, connected the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't re-read through this so if there's any mistakes, I'm sorry!  
> (also I didn't mean to publish this the first time)
> 
> Song: Sparkle by RADWIMPS  
> Fic Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/theredherring/playlist/0bHQrgm8XhJbcmkmj2SvvG?si=R_N3JvSnS72cJZCfl4BmUA

Lance woke the next day to sunlight streaming through his window.

His face cast in a warm sheet of light. He opened his eyes, having to squint in the harsh sunlight.

He’d forgotten to shut the curtains the night before – well, more like he’d made an active decision to keep the curtains open without consideration of the consequences he’d face the next morning.

An active decision to fall asleep watching the rain.

A decision he now regretted, no matter how peaceful it had been the night before.

He sighed, looking around the room, the light burned his eyes as he allowed them to adjust.

He contemplated whether he had the energy to get up and close the curtains.

Go back to sleep and ignore the day.

Or, if he should just give up on sleep entirely and get breakfast instead.

Hmm. He thought, Breakfast did sound good.

As his eyes trained the room, they landed on the red umbrella. Now dry and leaning against the set of drawers. He smiled.

Oh shit. He’d forgot he’d said he’d return it.

When he’d said it he’d thoroughly intended to do so the next day. But now, the thought of leaving the apartment and making his way to the flower shop sounded exhausting.

He threw the covers over his head and kicked his legs out. No way. Not gunna happen.

He sighed, pulling the covers back down and glancing at the umbrella again.

He’d return it tomorrow. No big deal.

He rolled over to pick up his phone, pulling out the charger as he did.

The time read 7:46.

 _Great_.

He kicked the covers off entirely, throwing them to the end of the bed with his feet. He laid there in nothing but his underwear, the cool room contrasting the warmth of the sunlight on his chest.

He took a few seconds to re-evaluate whether or not he should just pull his covers back up and ignore the world. How much did he really want breakfast though?

Then he thought about coffee, yeah, he definitely wanted coffee.

He got up, standing on his bed, almost falling flat on his face as the covers caught his feet. He stepped down onto the floor with a grunt and left the room in search of search of coffee.

As he opened the door, he heard noise coming from the kitchen. He shouldn’t be surprised Hunk was already awake, he was always the first to wake up. Whether it was to make a huge breakfast for the two of them or just read a book whilst he drank coffee, Hunk was always awake by 7am.

He shuffled down the hallway and into the lounge, squinting at the amount of sunlight streaming through the large windows of the back wall. Sunlight? At this hour? He’d be disgusted if he had the energy.

He made his way to the kitchen, leaning his entire weight on Hunk who was sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Jesus, Lance.”

“ _Hunk_.” He whined, “I need _coffee_.”

Hunk nudge Lance off of him with his elbow, giving Lance a displeased look Lance looked back at him with a tired pout.

Hunk sighed, “Fine.”

Lance smiled, pumping a fist as he scrambled to sit in the stool next to him. Hunk putting his own cup on the counter and moving into the kitchen to start the coffee machine.

It didn’t take much for Hunk to crack.

“You’re the barista here,” Hunk said, as he placed a capsule into the machine and hit the button. He pulled out a cup and placed it on the coffee machine whilst the milk heated up. “You should be making me coffee.”

Lance slumped forward against the counter, “But _Hunk_!” He groaned into the worktop. “I’m _heartbroken_.”

Hunk seemed to go silent at that, he looked up to find him looking at him in sympathy, “How are you doing then? I was gunna check on you last night, but I didn’t want to make things worse, uh…”

Lance sat up straight then, dropping the dramatics, “I’m… okay? I guess.”

“You guess?” Hunk said, incredulously. “Lance.”

“I don’t know, Hunk! What can I do? I’m her friend!”

Hunk sighed.

“I know, buddy.” He moved around the counter to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset.”

And then he was crying. The genuine concern in Hunk’s eyes had got him.

It was dumb, he’d expected this outcome, but that small sense of hoped he carried with him had told him that he’d deserved it. Deserved to be liked in return by this beautiful girl.

He’d been wrong. No matter how much you like someone, how much you love them, you’ll never be entitled to their feelings. And that had made him feel the worst, that’d he’d had that split second thought.

Hunk was holding him. His large, warm arms wrapped tight around Lance as he cried.

After a while, the two pulled away, Lance had calm down enough to stop crying.

“Do you feel better now?” Hunk said, after a moment.

“Yeah, I do.” He smiled, wiping his eyes. “Thanks, buddy.”

Hunk moved back into the kitchen, taking the finished coffee from the coffee machine and handing it to Lance. Lance took to the mug gratefully, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

He hummed as the warmth seeped into his bones, his chest felt immediately lighter. He could feel the damp on his cheeks where he’d cried. He did feel better, it often takes him a lot to deal with his emotions.

He always tries his best to hide whenever he’s hurt. People have problems of their own, he didn’t want them to have to worry about him. Hunk always saw through that, he’d notice Lance’s smile was slightly off, which would result in him being overly dramatic to try and cheer Lance up, either that or he’d be there with a variety of baked goods and a shoulder to cry on.

Hunk moved towards the refrigerator, “Want breakfast?”

Lance smirked, “Hunk, do you really need to ask that question?”

Hunk grinned, “Pancakes?”

Lance grinned in return, “You fucking know it.”

He took another sip of his coffee as Hunk went around the kitchen pulling out all the ingredients for their pancakes.

“What are you planning on doing today?”

“I dunno,” he sighed, putting his cup down and out the window to his right at the city cast in the golden glow of morning sunlight. “I was going to return something to the flower shop.”

“Return something?” Hunk said, taken aback. He glanced at the bouquet of tulips in the vase on the table and then back at Lance. “Uh… you can’t return those…”

“Not the flowers, Hunk!”

“Oh!” He gave a relieved sigh, “What are you returning then?”

“That red umbrella I had yesterday. The florist gave it to me.”

He watched the steam rise from the coffee mug in his hands as Hunk continued to make the batter for the pancakes.

“Did you know him?” Hunk asked as he cracked two eggs into the bowl of flour.

“No, I don’t think so.” Lance hummed. “I think I’d remember him if I did.”

Hunk laughed.

“What?” Lance asked incredulously at the sudden outburst.

“Lance,” Hunk said, turning to Lance with the bowl in hand as he mixed the rest of the ingredients together. “I mean you’re good at remembering people, but if you were focused on someone else at the time, you tend to forget everyone else that’s there.”

Lance huffed, mumbling into his coffee cup before taking another sip.

“So,” Hunk said turning back around to heat up the griddle, “He just gave it to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Weird.” Hunk said as he poured the batter, starting on the first pancake.

“What?”

“That he just gave it to you.”

“He didn’t give it to me,” Lance said, placing the cup down dramatically, “He let me borrow it.”

Hunk turned to give him a dubious look before flipping the pancake, “Exactly.”

Hunk flipped another pancake and moved onto the next, glancing back at Lance as he went. Sometimes Lance forgot this was Hunk’s job – not making Lance’s breakfast but cooking – he worked as the head chef at a restaurant downtown.

He was the most skilled cook Lance had ever come across, Lance was by no means an expert at food, but what he did know, was that Hunk’s cooking just couldn’t be matched. He had a true talent and passion for cooking, it was truly amazing to see someone who loved their work so much thrive in that environment.

As well as, having said chef as a roommate that was always down to cook food for you.

“Hunk,” Lance said, gazing admirably at Hunk whilst he worked, “Why haven’t I married you yet?”

Hunk laughed, “Lance!”

“It was a serious question!”

Hunk chuckled, continuing to churn out pancakes in a quick, practiced ease. “You tried, multiple times actually.”

Lance sighed, “Ah yes. My first rejection.”

He thought back on when he’d first met Hunk, how he’d been so taken aback by this beautiful boy that he’d just straight up asked him to marry him, there and then. No hesitation.

It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of Lance’s life, but luckily, Hunk was also a sweetheart and had gone into a fit of giggles at Lance’s proposal.

It had been the start of a beautiful friendship.

“I stand by it,” Lance said, returning to his coffee, “If you asked I would not, like ever, say no.”

Hunk chuckled, “What about when you meet the one.”

He clasped his hands together and kicked his leg up, fluttering his eyelashes at Lance.

Lance barked out a laugh, “Irrelevant! I’d marry you in an instant!”

Hunk wiped away a fake tear and flipped the last pancake, smiling to himself.

“Back to the subject,” Hunk said. “It looked like a pretty nice umbrella, he must be a nice guy if he either: trusted you enough that he’d think you’d return it, or to just have given it you in the first place.”

Lance thought it over.

He hadn’t really considered it beyond a being grateful for the shelter from the rain.

“I suppose…” Hunk looked glanced at him. “I mean, wouldn’t you do the same? Even if someone was a stranger and probably wouldn’t return it, most people would do it.”

Hunk shrugged, “Of course.”

“Well,” Lance said, unsure of what to do now he’d proved his point. “Exactly.”

Hunk shook his head with a smile, moving the pan from the stove to the sink and moving to clean up the ingredients. He put to but the eggs, milk and butter back in the refrigerator, pulling out a crate of blueberries as he did, holding them up in question to Lance.

Lance grinned, nodding. “Syrup?”

Hunk placed the blueberries in front of Lance, who immediately grabbed a few off the top and popped the into his mouth.

Hunk moved to the cupboards, first putting away the flour and sugar, and grabbing the syrup for Lance

He grabbed the two stacks of pancakes he’d plated up for them, putting them down on the counter in front of Lance. He took two forks from the cutlery draw and placed them next to the plates on the counter.

He moved the stool from Lance and pulled it around the opposite side of the island, so they were sitting across from one another.

Lance grabbed a handful of blueberries, adding them to the tops of his pancakes and then grabbed the syrup – pouring a generous amount over everything. Hunk doing the same.

“Are you going to then?” Hunk said, as he poured his own syrup. “Return the umbrella, I mean. Today.”

Lance hummed as he cut into the stack of pancakes with his fork, bringing it to his mouth.

“Don’t think so.” He said, as he put the fork into his mouth. He sighed at the sweet and fluffy pancake in his mouth. “I’ll go tomorrow, before work.”

No matter how many times Hunk made him breakfast, it amazed him every time just how good Hunk’s food was.

He suddenly realised just how hungry he was and began stuffing forkfuls of pancake and blueberries into his mouth, finishing the entire plate in 3 minutes.

He pushed the empty plate away from him as he leaned back in his chair, picking up his coffee with a content sigh.

Then he noticed Hunk looking at him, a frown on his face.

“What?” He said, moving to sit forward again awkwardly.

Hunk looked him over, “Did you eat dinner, last night, when you came home?”

Lance shrugged sheepishly, “I, uh, kind of just got home and knocked out.”

Hunk shook his head in disappointment. If Hunk found out you’d eaten anything less than three meals a day, he’d go out of his way to make sure that that wasn’t the case.

Hunk truly cared about everyone and anyone.

 

It amazed Lance, just how caring and selfless he was sometimes.

“I’m sorry!”

Hunk continued to shake his, he pointed his fork at Lance, “Make sure you eat today, Lance. I don’t want my best friend, skipping his meals for naps.”

Lance put hand over his and held out his pinkie finger, “I swear on my life!”

Hunk beamed, joining his pinkie with Lance’s.

Soon after breakfast, Hunk had left for work, leaving Lance home alone to do nothing but sit in his own self pity and watch bad reality TV shows all day. Specifically wedding shows, because Lance was a sucker for his own pain.

*

When Keith had left the house, the sun was out, the air was warm and there were only a few clouds scattered across the sky.

He’d put on a light leather jacket over his work clothes, thinking he’d be fine. It wasn’t that cold out. He’d be fine.

But halfway to work, the clouds had come rolling in and the sky seemed to open.

Heavy rain began to pour, soaking Keith head to toe. He pulled his jacket up over his head in an attempt to shelter himself from the downpour.

It hadn’t rained yesterday.

He’d spent the entirety of the previous day with Shiro.

Keith had sat at the counter, cutting stems on some pink roses someone had ordered for an anniversary. As well as reading his books and serving any customers that came in.

There had only been 9 in total.

It was a Sunday, so they were only open for a few hours.

Keith had felt like he’d spent the entire day on edge. Every time he’d heard the bell on door he’d jump, expecting to see the beautiful boy with the dazzling smile and bright blue eyes, holding his umbrella.

But he didn’t. At one point he’d given up waiting,

Shiro had stood next to him, working through receipts, documents and wedding things that needed to be done.

He’d watched him, cautiously. As though he was trying to figure out why Keith was acting the way he was.

Keith had stared at the bluebells beside him, wondering how the guy’s romantic endeavour had gone, if he’d been rejected and was moping around.

Or if he’d spent the day with that girl in celebration of their new relationship.

He’d wondered if this was how people felt in movies, when the guy would see a beautiful girl and run after her in an attempt to catch her heart.

It was a strange feeling to him. Something alien in his mind.

He wasn’t that kind of guy.

Even with beautiful boys like Lance.

As he neared the shop, he slowed down, fumbling in his bag for the key, whilst trying to keep himself covered but the small leather jacket really did nothing.

Shiro had been in earlier that morning to get some papers he’d needed, so he’d left the shutter up for Keith.

He stopped at the door, still fumbling for the keys in his bag. Eventually he gave up trying to keep dry and rummaging through the papers, books and other miscellaneous that he kept in his stupidly large satchel bag.

He was getting more and more frustrated with every droplet of rain that hit him, his hair was sticking to his forehead and getting in his eyes.

His patience was wearing thin and he was seconds away from pouring the entire contents of the damn bag on the floor.

Suddenly the rain stopped. He could hear the rain hitting the surface of something. He looked up to see a red umbrella sheltering him from the rain and then to the side seeing the boy he’d sold the tulips to the other day.

Lance.

He had a smirk on his face as the rain began to fall on him, his arm extended to keep the umbrella in place above Keith.

“Need a hand?” He said.

Keith scoffed, “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you out of the rain,” Lance smiled, “And returning your umbrella.”

Keith looks up at the umbrella again and then back at Lance, “Oh.”

He realised then that Lance is still standing in the rain, he lightly grabbed his elbow and pulled him towards him, so they were both somewhat under the shelter of the umbrella.

“There’s enough room for both of us,” Keith says, continuing to rummage in his bag. “There’s no need for you to get wet too.”

Lance huffed a laugh, as he watched Keith struggle.

He pulled out two books and a bunch of papers and held them out to Lance, “Hold these.”

Lance took them from Keith, balancing them in his right arm, whilst Keith tried again to find the keys.

He finds them after another few seconds of searching, sighing in relief as he shoved the key in the lock and unlocked the door.

He stepped inside, gesturing for Lance to follow.

He walked up to place his bag on the counter as Lance tried to a shake the water off the umbrella without making a mess of the floor.

“Just prop it up by the door.” He told Lance as he moved around the back of the counter, switching on the lights to the store and plugging in his phone, playing the shops playlist quietly through the speakers.

“Why do you have so many books and papers in your bag?” Lance said, as he walked up to the counter, looking quizzically at the books he held in his hand.

Keith shrugged, taking off his jacket and as he pushed his hair out his eyes.

“I like to do research on different flower types, these have a bunch of different facts and details about all kinds of flowers you’d never really find online. If there’s a slow day, I like to read through them, make notes, see if we can stock any that I think are particularly interesting,” He takes them from Lance and puts them on the counter opening the top one to a random page. It was a book on wild flowers.

“See,” he said, pointing at a description on a page with various yellow wild flowers, “It shows the various heights, what the flower type is, a photo of the flower and then then all different information about them.”

Lance looked over the page, as he moved to rest his elbows on the counter, spinning the book around to read the description of one of the flowers on the page.

“Yellow Water Lily. 4-6cm in diameter. Flowers solitary, with a- okay, I’d be lying I knew what the fuck any of this meant.”

Keith smirked, watching him look over the flowers on the right side of the page, a crease forming between his eyebrows, his mouth set in a stern line as he tried to decipher the information in from of him.

He was dressed differently to the day he’d first met him, wearing similar clothes to Keith, except Lance’s looked more formal – him wearing black trousers, a black button up and a long navy-blue coat over the top, they looked like work clothes.

Different to Keith’s work clothes that were just his black jeans and t-shirt.

He briefly thought about how the colours looked good on him, the blue bringing out his eyes. Keith felt a blush creeping up his cheeks and cleared his throat.

“You seem better dressed for the rain today.”

Lance looked up from the book, turning his confused expression to Keith and looking down at his outfit.

“Oh, yeah. I have work in like an hour.” He said, going back to the book flipping through a few pages.

“Oh, where do you work?” Keith said, as he grabbed his bag and jacket and walked over the hangers in the entryway of the back room.

He hung the two up and then moved to quickly grab a hand towel to dry his face, hair and neck.

He walked back into the main room, as he dried his hair.

“Oh.” Lance said, standing up straight to open his coat, revealing a red apron underneath with a name tag and a logo of a lion, made out of the steam coming from a coffee cup. “I work at the Voltron café, a few blocks away.”

Keith nodded, moving the towel to wipe the back of his neck as he looked over the apron.

“We’re not really allowed to wear the apron whilst we’re out,” Lance said, closing up the coat again and leaning back on the counter. “So, I have to wear this long ass coat because I don’t carry a bag.”

Keith scoffed, “Then you gave yourself that problem.”

Lance hummed, “Maybe so, Keith.”

He wiped his face with the towel and then moved back into the back room, throwing the now damp towel on the work bench and grabbing his own apron off the hook.

He came back out to the counter and started stacking the papers and books back up that Lance had been carrying.

“So,” he said, as he pulled the book of wild flowers from in front of Lance and added it to the pile.

He moved them to the side, near the vase that held the bluebells, which had reminded him, “How’d your confession go?”

Lance groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“Ouch.” Keith said. “I’m guessing, not too well?”

“Understatement.”

He’d spent a lot of money on that bouquet, so Keith could sympathise with the guy.

“She has a girlfriend,” Lance said, head still in hands.

Keith is confused for a moment, and then he realised.

He felt a chuckle rising in his throat, he didn’t want to laugh, the guy was clearly upset but he couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

“Come on, man!” Lance said hysterical, as he stood throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“I’m sorry!” Keith said, as he continued to laugh at him. “How didn’t you know?”

“This is a new development!” Lance stood with his arms crossed as he watched Keith.

He eventually calmed down a little, still chuckling lightly to himself, “Did you at least know she was into girls?”

Lance looked down at the floor frowning, “Well…”

Keith laughed, “You’re an idiot.”

“I know!” Lance says, covering his face with his hands.

Keith shook his head, poor guy.

“Did she like the flowers?”

Lance pulled his hands down his face, enough so he could look at Keith, before moving them back into his hair and sighing. His cheeks were flushed.

“Actually,” Lance said, “I told her they were for some guy I was going on a date with.”

Keith was taken aback, looking at Lance with a surprised expression on his face, “Some guy?”

Keith had genuinely thought Lance was straight,

Lance slumped back against, the counter dramatically, “I know!”

“But… why?” Keith asked, incredulously.

Lance sighed, leaning his head on one hand and looking up at Keith. “I just needed a reason to leave, honestly, like I’m happy for her. I really am, but it hurt, and I had to get out of there.”

Keith hummed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re still an idiot.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “Always the supportive florist.”

Keith smirked at him, “Always.”

Lance huffed a laughed, “That really does suck, though. I’m sorry, man.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Lance waved a hand, “I’m just sorry all your hard work went to waste.”

“My hard work?” Keith said, tilting his head slightly in question.

Lance looked at him for a moment, “Yeah, you spent so much time helping me and then you made it all nice and presentable.”

“Like I said, I was just doing my job.”

Lance shook his head, “Either way, I feel like it was wasted effort.”

Keith smirked, “Don’t feel too bad,”

Lance gave him a questioning look, “I got paid and I got a cute guy to buy me some bluebells.”

Lance laughed at that, covering his face again. “Fuck you.”

Keith chuckled, as he moved around the counter towards the front door turning the CLOSED sign over to say OPEN.

He looked out at the rain, looking up at the thick grey clouds in the sky. It didn’t look like it was going anywhere any time soon, so he wouldn’t need to put the displays outside today either.

Which was honestly a relief, Keith hated having to carry out all the different racks and flowers, or the little crates that held various cacti and succulents.

Every time he handled those displays, he ended up bruised, with a dozen pricks from the cacti.

“Hey, I never asked,” Lance said.

Keith turned around to look at him as he gestured to the sign on the back wall of the shop, behind the counter. “What does ‘Akai Ito’ mean?”

Keith looks up at the sign, he’d forgotten to switch it on when he’d come in. The red sign stretched across the brown wall in a way to imitate the movement of a thread, it was a thin neon light that Adam had made.

Shiro had mentioned it in passing one time, how he liked the aesthetic and how he thought it would contrast the wood nicely. About a month or two later, he’d given it to Shiro as an anniversary gift.

Keith moved to join Lance again, flipping the switch on the wall, the red glow illuminating each letter with a light buzz.

He turned back to Lance, moving the stool to sit at the counter across from Lance, “Have you ever heard of the red string theory?”

Lance shook his head.

“It’s based on a Chinese legend,” he leaned over to pull the red string from the wall that held the assortment of ribbons and string they used for bouquets. He cut off a small length with some nearby scissor and leaned back to where he was sat before.

He placed his elbow on the counter and raised his little finger in the air, gesturing for Lance to do the same. He mirrored Keith’s position and Keith moved to wrap the thread around Lance’s finger.

“According to this myth, everyone is tied to someone else by this invisible piece of red string,” he tied a small a knot in, following the string lightly between is fingers to the end of it. “the thread is supposed to lead you to this person to someone who they will make history with.”

“Like soulmates? Two people destined to be destined to fall in love.”

“Sometimes.”

Lance watches intently, as Keith ties the thread around his own pinkie finger, making a knot and lifting his hand so he’s matching Lance. “It based on the Japanese interpretation of that myth. That the relationships we have are predestined, that the gods tied together those who would find each other in life. Those connected would have an important story. All of this regardless of time, location and the circumstances that they are in or that brings them together.”

Lance looked up at him, his brows furrowed together, “So, it’s not just romantic relationships? It can be friends too?”

Keith nodded, “Yeah.”

Lance hummed, “The thread supposedly will tangle and stretch, but never break. That’s how the legend goes, that the whole world is intertwined, that everyone is destined for something great with someone. Whether that’s just to fall in love, or something bigger.”

Lance looked back at the thread connecting the two of them, “Wow. That’s beautiful.”

He put down his hand, Lance doing the same. “My brother chose it, it’s his store and he’s a firm believer in it.” Lance looked over his features for a moment, seemingly thinking something over, maybe wondering how many siblings he had, or if he looked like them.

“What about you?” Lance said, quietly.

It took him off guard, no one had ever asked him. Not even Shiro.

He thought it over, he’d never really considered it. Romantically or platonically. He’d never paid much attention to people, they came and then they were gone. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Lance was still looking at him, making him feel like he’d been put on the spot, said the wrong thing.

He cleared his throat, diverting the question back to Lance, “What about you?”

Lance glanced at the sign and then held up his hand, inspecting the thread closed. He seemed to think it over, going over the relationships he’d had in his head to see if what Keith had said applied to him.

“I think so,” he tilted his head, as he turned his hand around to look at the knot Keith had tied. “My roommate, Hunk. I feel like he was always destined to be my friend, that we were always supposed to find each other? Be there for one another, you know, help each other get through each day?”

Keith hummed in agreement, he had no idea who Hunk was, but he understood what it was like to have that kind of relationship. He’d experienced it first hand, with Adam and Shiro.

Lance smirked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe there’s hope for my love life after all.”

Keith tugged his hand back to pull the thread around Lance’s finger. He winced, laughing at Keith’s reaction.

“Anyway, to answer your question, ‘Akai Ito’ translates to ‘Red Thread.’ My brother said that he wanted it for the shop because so many people use flowers as a way to show that they love someone. He said that whenever people bought flowers from us, they were also saying, ‘we’re meant to be together in this life no matter what.’”

Lance scoffed, “Then what does that mean for me?”

Keith smiled at him, “You’re a lost cause.”

Lance rolled his eyes.

He watched Lance, as he sat there a fond smile on his face, red thread wrapped around his finger, attached to his. He thought about the story he had told and how he’d said he hadn’t believed it, but as he looked at the boy in front of him, he realised that was a lie.

He’d only met Lance a two days ago, but he felt oddly drawn to him. Maybe their destinies really were intertwined, or maybe Lance would walk out of the shop today and he’d never see him again.

“Oh, shit.” Lance said, interrupting Keith’s thought as he checked the time on his phone. “I gotta go before my boss gives me a 20-minute lecture on the importance of time management.”

He stood up, grinning at Keith.

“This was nice.” Lance said, “I was just going to give you the umbrella and get out of your way but, I’m glad I got to talk to you.”

Keith’s heart did a small jump at Lance’s comment. He made a mental note to fucking pull himself together.

“You’re always teaching me interesting things,” He gestured to the sign. “It’s fun.”

Keith didn’t really know what to say, he wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. They either came out in an angry outburst, or he ignored them, internalised them. It was how he’d always been.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

Lance chuckled shaking his head.

“You should come to the shop one day,” He said, pointing behind him to what he assumed was the direction of the coffee shop. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Keith looked at him with a wary expression, “I’ll think about it.”

Lance smiled at him, “Good. It’s the Voltron café.”

“Okay.”

He held up his hand that had the thread tied to it, “Uh, what should I do with this?”

Keith looked at him and then back at the thread considering for a minute.

He could just pull the loop from Lance’s finger, it wasn’t that tight. He could pull the loop off his own finger and hand the thread to Lance, but he didn’t.

Instead he took the scissors he’d used before and cut the thread in the middle.

“There,” Keith said, as he placed Lance’s piece of the thread in his hand. “Now you can remember that, even though that girl wasn’t the one for you, you’ve got someone out there that’s destined for you, or whatever.”

Lance blushed, “Really?”

“Of course.” Keith said, pointing at the thread, “There’s your proof.”

It didn’t occur to either of them that that thread in particular, had led directly to Keith, connected the two of them.

Lance looked at the thread, “Huh.”

“See you around, then?”

Lance looked at him confused, “Oh, shit!”

He turned to walk out the door, practically running.

As he grabbed the door he turned back around, waving a hand, “See you around, Keith.”

And then he was out the door, pulling his coat over his head and running to get to work – almost colliding with Adam.

He saw Lance give a quick apology before running off again.

He sighed, he was really gone for this boy he’d met two seconds ago because he smiled at him one time, huh?

He put his head in hands and groaned, the bell on the front door chimed as Adam stepped in, “Woah, what’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” He groaned, hands still firmly covering his face.

He heard Adam shake the rain from his umbrella and walk up to the counter, “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

He moved his hands away from his face, knowing his cheeks were red, his hair was still wet from the rain earlier, he knew he looked a mess.

Adam gave him a knowing look, “What?”

“Does this have something to do with that guy that almost knocked me flat on the floor?”

Keith groaned again, putting his face back in his hands. He felt a light tug on his little finger and looked up at Adam.

“Is this a new promotional thing you’re doing?” He said, the smile from before still present.

“Fuck off.”

Adam chuckled, “Keith, you’ve got a crush.”

Keith slammed a hand on the counter, “No.”

Adam was laughing at him now.

“Stop!” He said, slightly hysterical. “I only met the guy 2 days ago!”

Adam shook his head, “Oh, Keith.”

“What?”

He tugged on the string again, making Keith move his hands to look at him.

“I know you, whenever you have that look,” He pointed a finger to Keith’s face who slapped it aside lightly, “It means there’s a boy you like.”

Keith scoffed, “Wow. Thanks, Dad.”

“Always here to help you in your gay crisis, son.” Adam said, smiling brightly, sending Keith into a fit of laughter.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Keith said.

Most of the time Adam only came in on days that Shiro was here, he’d have a drink with them, sometimes he’d take Shiro to lunch.

It was rare that he came in whenever Shiro wasn’t here.

“I came to by my future husband some flowers.” Adam said, fiddling with the engagement ring on his finger.

Keith looked at him suspiciously, he shook his head.

“You only play with your ring when you’re about to ask something,” Keith said, pointing at his hands. “What is it?”

Adam sighed, “You know me too well, Keith.”

Keith nodded, he did know him too well.

“I got the rings,” Keith’s eyebrows raised.

When they’d started planning the wedding they’d given each other one job that would be a surprise for one another.

Adam was in charge of getting the actual wedding rings. Shiro was in charge of the cake.

They’d put Keith in charge of the flower, which had honestly shocked him.

He’d expected Shiro to cover the flowers, just by default, but Shiro had insisted that Keith would choose the perfect flowers for them, and that he’d wanted his brother to have a part in the wedding.

All they’d asked is for something that fit the colour scheme, which was pretty easy consider it was just white, with small splashes of red here and there.

He’d chosen carnations, white carnations, to symbolise the pure love Adam and Shiro felt for one another.

Adam had been worrying about his set job for weeks, Shiro had been the one to propose, so he’d chosen the engagement rings.

Adam had wanted to find the perfect rings, since they’d be wearing them for the rest of their lives.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see?” Keith asked, standing up straight.

Adam put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a small rectangular box.

He held it out to Keith who took it lightly in both hands, as though he’d given him a 400-year-old vase that cost 8 million dollars.

“Holy shit,” he said, excited smile on his face.

Adam laughed, “You haven’t even seen them yet.”

“I know, but,” he said, looking down at the black, velvet box that sat in his hands. “You finally have them.”

“I know.” He nudged Keith, “Open them, so I know if I did a good job or not.”

Keith scoffed, opening the box, revealing two silver bands with the roman numeral for 11 engraved on them. It had been the day they’d met, 11/11/11.

They were simple, which was surprising but also kind of charming.

He looked up at Adam, “I know they look simple but,” he pulled one of the rings from the box and held it between his thumb and his fore finger, turning it so Keith could see the inside.

A red band ran around the inside of the ring, “It has this red band on the inside, you know, like ‘Akai Ito’?”

Keith took the ring from Adam, “Holy shit.”

“Is that good?” Adam asked, nervously. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll love it.”

He put the ring back in the box and handed it to Adam. “Are you sure? I want it to be perfect.”

“Adam,” Keith said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “No one knows him better than you. Not even me, and honestly, if the ring was one of those candy rings he’d probably still love it.”

Adam sighed, “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He said, sitting back in his seat.

“Not always.”

Keith crossed his arms, frowning at him, “In this context, I am.”

Adam shook his head again.

“I’m happy for you.” Keith says. Adam was one of the few people Keith found it easy to express his feelings with, besides Shiro, obviously.

They’d all shared the same difficult past, you don’t go through something like that together without some kind of trust forming between you. And Keith trusted Adam. He was like a brother to him.

“Me too.” Adam said, after a moment.

They settled into a calm silence, nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the windows.

“But,” Adam said, smirk present in his voice.

Keith glared at him. “Don’t.”

“Back to your love life.”

Keith groaned.

“Tell me about that guy.” He pointed a thumb in the direction of the door, “Who is he? Must a hell of a guy to have you like this.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Keith said, slightly defensive.

“You’ve got that look,” he said, pointing at him again. “There might as well be hearts coming from your eyes, like they do in cartoons.”

Keith scoffed.

“Tell me.”

Keith sighed, “There’s nothing to tell.”

Adam looked at him dubiously.

“Fine,” he sighed. “He came in the other day to buy flowers for this girl he was confessing to-”

“Oh.”

“So, I took him around and showed him all the different types of flowers. He was an asshole but like, he seemed so interested in everything I was saying, you know, like he actually cared about what the flowers meanings were and stuff. And then he bought me some bluebells to say thank you-“

“Wait, he did what?”

“-and then I gave him my umbrella because he’d been caught in the rain, and I felt bad for the guy. Then he told me his name was Lance and that he’d ‘see me around’ and then he came in today to return the fucking umbrella- which honestly, I thought he’d just not bother? You know? – and he was telling me about what happen-”

“Keith.”

“-and what the store meant, and I tied the thread around his finger and he invited me to the coffee shop he works at before he left, and-”

“Oh my god, Keith!”

Keith stopped. Taking a breath.

“He’s really hot.”

Adam looked at him, a sly smile on his face, “Keith, you’re screwed.”

“I know!” He groaned.

“The guy looked at me for two seconds and I’m in love with him.” He said, sarcastically.

There was some truth to it though, he’d never had a guy do nothing but look in his general direction and make him feel so many emotions.

He was a mess.

“Are you gunna go then?” Adam asked, as he observed Keith’s inner turmoil.

Keith sighed, “Maybe.”

“I think you should.”

Keith hummed, looking at the bluebells.

Lance wanted to return the favour, maybe he should let him.

“If not to ask him out,” Keith glared at him. “To make a friend?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Keith said, smirking at him. “But the loner kid is kind of my brand.”

Adam laughed.

“I’ll go.” He pointed at Adam. “But only for the free coffee.”

Adam sighed.

“Anyway,” Keith said, standing up. “Are you gunna buy some flowers or not?”

“Of course.”

*

When he’d left the flower shop, he’d been in such a rush he’d almost knocked several people down.

He’d stayed too long, giving himself only 5 minutes to do a 15-minute walk.

The plan had been to leave the umbrella by the door, it was before nine, so he’d assumed the shop would still be close. And if not, he could just give the umbrella to Keith and leave.

But as he’d near the shop, he’d seen Keith at the door, with nothing but a small leather jacket on his back to shelter him from the rain.

He’d been fumbling in his bag. He’d stood and watched him for a moment, he could see the frustration building in him.

He’d walked forward until he was near enough that he could hold out the umbrella to cover Keith.

He felt the rain begin to fall on him shoulders but it had been fine, Keith had needed it more.

Before he’d burned his bag right then and there.

He smiled at the memory of Keith’s face as he ran, he’d been so confused as the sudden shelter and the appearance of Lance.

He could have left the moment Keith had taken the books from his hands, but he didn’t.

He’d followed Keith to the counter, spoken with him. Had his little finger twined with red thread and ended up having to run to work at full speed.

He made it to work, 2 minutes late.

Soaked in rain, but with a bright smile on his face.

“You’re late.” Pidge said, as he neared the counter.

“No shit.”

“Coran’s going to eat you alive.” They said, as Lance moved through to the back of the shop to hang his coat. “What happened?”

Lance shrugged as he came back to where Pidge stood, coffee mug already in hand.

Pidge was either a hot chocolate piled with cream, sugar, marshmallows and cinnamon person or a straight up, 8 shot, black coffee type of person.

There was no in-between.

Monday mornings were always black coffee mornings.

“Had an errand to run.” He looked down at their drink in disgust, “I don’t know how you drink that stuff.”

Pidge looked at him suspiciously, “Then why are you girl happy? Or even, boy happy?”

Lance scoffed, “I am just happy. Can’t a guy be happy?”

“Not with that look,” They said, putting their cup down and crossing their arms.

Lance raised his hands in a kind of surrender, “I swear, nothing romantic. Just an errand.”

“Then what’s this?” Pidge said, tugging on the red string.

Lance blushed, dropping his hands.

“Oh. Nothing, some guy told me a story about red thread.”

“Some guy, huh?”

Lance scoffed, playing with the thread around his finger. “Not like that, asshole. A… friend? I think.”

Pidge hummed, going back to their coffee and taking a sip. They placed the cup back down on the counter, giving Lance one of their serious looks.

“Just don’t start any new romantic quests, Lance. What happened clearly hurt you, and I don’t want to see that happen again any time soon.”

Lance sighed, “I know, and I’m not, I just made a new friend.”

He smiled, “I invited him for coffee, you should talk to him, I feel like you’d get along.”

Pidge rolled their eyes, “Whatever, but if you fall for this “friend” and get your heart broken, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lance laughed, as cute as the florist was, he’d been fine.

“Lance, my boy.” He heard Coran call from behind him, usual chipper tone in his voice but there was a stern undertone, “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Coran was an odd man.

He had bright orange hair and a large moustache to match.

He also had a pleather of tattoos he kept hidden under his work uniform, which always seemed to shock people whenever they found out.

He was a kind man, but he could be intimidating if anyone tried to hurt anyone he cared about.

He was also a mess at times, especially when he knew he was being cool, he’d ruin it by tripping over something or doing something dumb.

But beside that, no matter how much hardship the world gave him, he never seemed to let it get to him. He was one of the kindest people he’d ever met.

When Lance had started at the coffee shop, Coran had been the one to take him through everything. Show him the best way to clean the tables, how to clean the toilets, how to maintain the best hygiene possible.

Everything he needed to know.

Even with great, in detailed descriptions of why they use a specific brand of cleaner and the fabrics of the cloths they used, Lance had enjoyed talking to Coran.

He made him feel like he was important, if he had a dumb question Coran would immediately answer with a bright smile.

He’d never question Lance’s intelligence, which had been common throughout his life.

But Coran knew he was smart, he just knew he had a lot of questions to ask, so he could fully understand something.

He’d become like an uncle to Lance. So, every now and then, he would get one of Coran big lectures on life.

He wanted the best for Lance, so that meant drilling the important of time management and maturity into head.

Lance turned to face Coran, he could feel the panicked sweat forming. “Sure.”

“Good luck, lover-boy.” Lance blew his tongue out at Pidge, turning to follow Coran in the back.

He pulled the thread from his pinkie finger and wrapped it around his wrist, tying a small knot to keep it in place.

He briefly thought about the theory, whether Pidge was tied to him, whether Coran was tied to him. They were both important people in his life, Pidge being like a younger sibling to him and Coran being like an uncle.

He wondered how many people he’d been destined to meet in his life.

He wondered if the florist was one of those people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!  
> Shiro will be more present in the next two chapters.  
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up bc chapter 3 is the only chapter I don't have anything fully planned out for, yikes  
> If anyone's curious in the meantime, I use pinterest for mood boards for planning chapters so feel free to have a look:  
> https://pin.it/7v63gcegryryab


	3. When the Sun Starts Coming Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your wonderful comments, i'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far even with all the typos and errors !

Keith stood at the window of the coffee shop Lance had mentioned 

He’d decided to take Lance up on his offer. If not for the free coffee, just to see him again.  

He looked around trying to see if he could spot Lance before heading in, but there was only one barista that he could see, and it definitely wasn’t Lance. There were a few students studying alone on various tables, papers scattered across the desk, laptops open, earphones in.  

There was a trio of businessmen on a table too large for just three people, discussing something that looked important and mind-numbingly boring. There was an elderly couple sharing a slice of cake. Someone with pink hair scooping the cream off the top of their drink. 

No Lance. 

He sighed, looking at his reflection in the glass. He’d put an effort into with his appearance this morning, which was a rare occasion. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t care, he just didn’t see a point most the time when he’d be at work, handling soil and ruining his clothes. There was no point in putting on a nice shirt when he’d end his days covered in dirty plant water, soil and cleaning products. 

When he’d attended the garrison, he’d made it a point to never care about his appearance, keeping his hair long and unkept. No matter how many times anyone told him to cut it. 

Once he’d left the garrison, however, he’d started taking better care of himself. Mentally and physically. He exercised regularly, ate well, slept well, dressed sensibly – making sure he was presentable for the customers. 

He’d even changed his hair. 

He didn’t want to turn away business because some old white lady didn’t like the kid with the messy long hair behind the counter. So, when Shiro had given him the job, he’d cut his hair short.  

Sometimes he missed the security it had given him, how it let him hide behind his hair, rather than having his neck and ears exposed for the world.  

He’d tried his best to style it in some way that morning, but it wouldn’t cooperate. The wind and other elemental factors ruining all his hard work. _At least it’s not raining_ , he thought.  

He’d also worn clothes that weren’t his usual work clothes. A pair of dark red pants, that he’d rolled up at the bottom, along with his usual black boots, they were his work shoes, but they were comfortable and looked nice, so he usually wore them with most outfits. He’d worn a black shirt, which he often wore but it was one that was in better condition than his work shirt.  

Finally, he’d worn the brown coat Shiro had gotten him for Christmas last year. The weather was starting to get cooler, so he felt the warmer coat was justified. 

Lance had told him to drop by, but he’d neglected to tell him when he’d actually be there. He’d thought that maybe he worked there daily, so whenever Keith decided to show up, he’d be there. But Keith didn’t think that was the case anymore.  

He could leave and go back another day. A day when Lance was actually there, but the thought of coffee was more appealing when he was standing outside the shop. He could always ask the barista that was working when he’d next be in.  

He looked at himself in the reflection of the glass again, before running both hands roughly through his hair to return it to the ruffled state it was normally in, walking inside the coffee shop before he changed his mind. 

The shop was warm when he entered, a comforting contrast to the cold wind outside.  

The minimalistic interior was oddly cosy, in comparison to the dark wood and soft, warm lighting of other coffee shops he’d been to in this area. It felt clean and calming - the open space and white walls.  

There were tables for two scattered around the room, booths lining the wall to the left, with a few larger tables in the back corner, near a winding staircase – which, Keith guessed, led to more seating upstairs.  

On the opposite wall to the booths was a giant mural of what looked like five robotic cats, or lions, on the wall. The black lines contrasting against the stark white wall beneath it.  

They’d all been painted to look as though they were running towards some kind of ship, a variety of constellations scattered around it, with black dots covering the remainder of the wall to represent stars. It was beautiful. So intricate, yet simple.  

After taking a moment to appreciate the art on the wall, he walked towards the counter to where the barista continued to the clean the coffee machine. 

A mellow tune played through the speakers, some love song Keith had heard before, but he couldn’t remember where.  

“Excuse me.” Keith said, as he reached the counter.  

The barista turned to him, threading the cloth they’d been using through the loop in their apron, “Hey, what can I do for you?” 

He looked at the barista, a small girl with big glasses and messy blonde hair tied into a ponytail.  

“Uh, does… Lance work here?” The girl raised an eyebrow, giving him a judgemental look.  

“Are you the _friend_ that made him late the other day?”  

Keith rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Um…” 

“Keith?”  

He turned to see Lance holding a large brown box. He seemed surprised at first but then his face broke into a soft smile. “Hey.” 

Keith smiled back at him, “Hey.” 

“You came.”  

“I did.”  

Lance’s smile widened, and Keith’s face started to feel hot.  

He heard the girl next to them clear their throat, jolting Lance, who seemed to suddenly remember that he was working and holding a box, full of what looked to be stock, in his hands.  

“Pidge,” Lance said, looking at the girl behind the counter. “This is Keith, the florist I was telling you about.” 

He nodded his head in Keith’s direction, he was about to introduce himself when the girl, Pidge, chimed in. 

“You are him!” Pidge pointed, accusingly at him. “I knew it!” 

“Pidge!”  

“What?” They said, hysterically. “He asked for you and you’ve not stopped talking about him for the past 2 days!”  

“I have not!” Lance said, equally hysterical. 

“You have.” 

He looked between the two, slightly taken aback. Both by the volume of their interaction and the subject matter. Lance had been talking about him? 

Lance rolled his eyes, adjusting the box in hands, “Don’t listen to them, just because they’re small, doesn’t mean they’re not the devil themselves.” 

The plural took Keith off-guard for a minute, but then he realised the mistake he’d made, and the guilt began to rise inside him.  

 _Well done, asshole._  

Pidge rolled their eyes, coming around the counter to take the box from Lance. “Don’t let _him_ fool you, most people fall for his looks but he’s an asshole.” 

“Hey!” Keith felt his face grow even hotter. 

Lance shook his head, pointing at Keith. “I refuse to let you scare him away with absolute nonsense.” 

He moved around the back of Keith putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him towards the stairs.  

“But I didn’t order…” 

“Keith,” Lance said, giving him a light nudge. “You’re getting an exclusive escort from your barista, I can take your order.” 

Keith smiled to himself as Lance lead him up the spiral staircase to the second floor.  

“I’m taking my break!” Lance shouted back to Pidge, as they ascended the stairs. 

“Are you allowed to do this?” Keith said, as Lance lifted his hands from Keith’s shoulders and followed Keith up the stairs. 

Lance chuckled behind him, “I was about to go on break, you came just in time.” 

The upper floor of the coffee shop was similar to the lower level, although there were much more booths and windows lining the front of the room – giving an overview of the street and the other shops the city held.  

Lance moved past him, walking over to a booth nearer the windows and gestured for Keith to sit down.  

He sat down awkwardly, adjusting his coat so it didn’t crease. He watched as Lance took a seat across from him, he could feel the warm smile on his face but could do little to control it- compose himself into his usual, disinterested expression.  

Lance sighed, placing his hands on the table, smiling at Keith, “Hi.” 

Keith’s smile grew wider, “Hi.”   

“I didn’t think you’d come so soon.” 

Keith hummed, “Well, you didn’t exactly tell me your work schedule.” 

Lance paused for a minute, like he was thinking over the last time they’d met. 

“I didn’t,” Lance laughed. “Shit.” 

He saw the blush rise in Lance’s cheeks and he put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I was in a rush to get to work and I was flustered and-” 

Keith laughed at him. “Lance, it’s fine.” 

He looked up at Keith and rested his chin in his hands. He really was beautiful.  

That kind of beautiful that you forget just how much it affected you.  He could feel the stammer in his chest as he looked at Lance sitting across from him, his eyes shining in the lights of the coffee shop.  

It was exactly why he’d come. Exactly why he’d decided to spend his day off meeting some random guy he was only 30% sure he’d actually get the chance to see. Because, as strange as it may be, he couldn’t get that guy out of his head. 

“I’m glad you came anyway.” Lance said, looking Keith over. “You look good today, I was beginning to think you only had one set of clothes.” 

Keith rolled his eyes to cover the blush forming in his cheeks, “I have a uniform. I’m not just sat behind a counter all day, things get messy when you’re working with plants.”  

Lance hummed, “I assumed you were just some dark, broody guy that only wore black clothes.” 

“Thanks,” Keith scoffed. 

“I mean it!” Lance said, pointing in the direction of the flower shop. “I was scared you were going to chase me out your store with a piece of that broken plant pot.” 

Keith couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him as Lance watched him with a wide grin on his face. 

“I would have.” Keith said, resulting in Lance being the one to laugh too loud for the practically empty floor of the coffee shop.  

“I’m sure.” Lance said, shaking his head. “Do you want a drink? I know you were ordering before I dragged you away, but I can get it for you now. On me, like I said.” 

“Uh sure.” 

He stood up, smiling down at Keith, “What’s your poison?” 

Keith scoffed, again. “You’re not a bartender.” 

Lance crossed his arms, smile morphing into a smirk, “Sir, please. Your drink order?”  

Keith smiled, “Coffee. Black.” 

Lance’s smile dropped, “You’re joking, right?” 

“Uh... no?” Keith said, cautiously.  

“Oh my god.” 

“What?” 

“Keith,” Lance said, as he stood. “That’s disgusting.”  

Keith shrugged with a smirk, crossing his arms, “Are you this nice to all your customers?”  

Lance paused, smile slowly returning to his face, “Only the best ones.” 

He laughed. It surprised him just how easily he could interact with Lance.  

Normally, when he was faced with a social interaction, Keith would be the least bit interested in pretending he cared. He’d just hum along with whatever someone was saying and hope for the best.  

It was cruel, but that was how he coped.  

When he was younger, he’d been so terrified of interacting with people, he’d pushed everyone away as a form of protection. Either that or he’d be too terrified to go through with any plans he’d made, be too scared to contribute to the conversations, make things awkward, so the relationships he’d tried to keep? He’d end up inevitably pushing them away too. 

Eventually, he began to build up a wall around him.  

Starting new classes, he’d do whatever he could to avoid any interaction with his peers. If there was group work, he’d do the task as quickly and efficiently as possible and sit in silence whilst the other members in his group interacted.  

If someone tried to catch his eye, he’d look the other way and focus entirely on avoiding that person.  

It was easier to deal with the anxiety if you were sure there was a clear sign that told people “THIS PERSON DOES NOT WANT TO INTERACT. AVOID THEM AT ALL COSTS.” 

But sometimes, people found a way around that wall and he’d melt.  

Lance, it seemed, was one of those people. 

There wasn’t that panic before he opened his mouth. His mind didn’t have to run on double speed, trying to predict what will be the right thing to say that won’t result in a misunderstanding or an awkward situation. 

There was a back and forth that felt normal. Nostalgic even. 

Some people you could talk to for hours and still have to force the words from your mouth, but with others you could instantly fall into an easy exchange. 

The panic was still there, but it felt more on the edge of excitement. 

His hands were slightly sweaty, and his legs felt oddly numb, but Lance’s smile made him feel comforted. Like no matter what, he would be judged, and he wouldn’t have to hide from him.   

Maybe that was why he felt so drawn to him.  

“I only get half an hour, so I’ll be quick.” Lance took a step back, “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” 

Keith smiled, “I’ll be right here.” 

“Good.” 

And then he turned and made his way down to the lower floor, an air of confidence in his walk.  

He ran over what had just happened in his head, thinking about the smile that had been present on his face the entire time. He took it back, that boy was going to be the death of him. 

He put his face in his hands as he faught off a blush and groaned. He felt stupid, the warmth in his chest made him giddy. 

Boys never had this effect on him, no matter how pretty, he never got that jump in his heart whenever some guy smiled at him.  

Somehow, Lance managed it.  

He adjusted, resting against his right hand and looked around the top floor.  

This floor had the same booths as the lower level, a table lining the windows on the far end of the shop, the fancy golden stools that he’d seen were lined up along the table. The aesthetic seemed to flow throughout the shop, simple and beautiful. It was clear that the coffee shop had made its own image.  

There was another mural, this one was bigger than the other but in the same style. Most likely done by the same artist. 

There was more wall space for it to occupy than the previous one.  

In the centre, there were two people in a kind of armour, or a space suit, something tech-related and science-y.  

The two were suspended in the air, various planets and ships surrounding them, all different shapes and sizes. There were explosions in the far background. 

They were reaching for one another, seemingly desperate to reach one another amidst the chaos, the tips of their fingers less than a millimetre away from one another. 

He wondered if the two ever reached one another, how this scenario ended. Did they reach one another? Make it to safety? Live out the romance of the galaxy?  

Did they die there? Embrace one another as they were engulfed in a blast that left nothing in its wake? 

However the story had ended, it was clear that the two loved each other. That they would do anything to be with the other person, because in all that chaos – all that destruction – they were still trying to reach one another. 

It was beautiful. 

He made a mental note to ask Lance about it. 

* 

As Lance hopped off the final step, he saw Pidge restocking the cakes he’d bought from the stock room.  

“Do you want some help before I go on my break?” He said, rounding the counter to the coffee machine. 

He unhooked the portafilter, tapping out the used coffee grounds and rinsing it, before refilling it to make drinks for himself and Keith. 

“I’ll be fine,” Pidge said, positioning the cakes on the wooden display. “You’d be too preoccupied by the thought of emo guy waiting for you.” 

Lance scoffed at the comment, “You know, I’m not as big of a slut as you make out. I can have attractive guy friends.” 

A smug smile formed on Pidge’s face, “Who said anything about him being attractive?” 

He paused, looking back at Pidge, a slight sense of panic rose in his stomach. Pidge’s expression seemed to get cockier the longer his brain tried to work through a response. 

“I can have friends that I think are attractive and not want to date them.”  

Pidge hummed, unconvinced. 

He pressed the button for four shots and grabbed two cups from the top, filling Keith’s cup with hot water and placing it under one of the spouts. 

“Seriously, he’s a cool guy.” He said, as he pulled the milk from the fridge, and filled up the metal jug about halfway, just beneath the spout. “I think you’d like him, Hunk too.” 

“Hunk likes everyone.” 

“But you don’t like anyone.” 

Pidge sighed, putting down the metal tongues they’d been using and nudged the now empty box under the counter with their foot. 

“I just don’t want to see you get yourself hurt again.” They leaned in to where Lance stood at the coffee machine, who lowered the pipe into the milk. 

“The thing with Allura just happened.” Pidge said, the screeching of the steam made it difficult to hear their lowered voice, but he caught it. 

Lance smiled sadly, continuing to froth the milk, “Believe me, I know.”  

He’d spent the last few days feeling sorry for himself, whenever he’d catch himself feeling himself again, his heart would sink with the memory from that day. No matter how many times he’d tell himself her happiness was what he truly wanted, he’d feel bitter and wounded because he’d let himself believe that he’d be the one to bring that to her. 

He sighed, switching off the steamer and wiping the spout with a cloth as he tapped the metal jug on against the counter – getting rid of any large bubbles that had formed in the foam. 

“I know you’re worried about me, but I made a friend. It’s me, you know how easily I make friends.” 

They hummed, “That’s true, you did invite me to a game night five minutes after you’d met me.” 

He snapped his fingers at them, “Exactly.” 

Pidge shook their head, “But that was different, you knew my brother, and I know how easily you fall in love, Lance. If I have to deal with you as an emotional wreck because you fall for that guy, I’ll never work weekends again.” 

Lance scoffed, “I don’t think Coran would be onboard with that.” 

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t let it happen.” 

Lance smiled as he pulled his cup from under the coffee machine, adding a dash of hazelnut syrup – well, less a dash and more a heap of syrup. 

He turned to Pidge extending his unoccupied hand towards them, “I swear, that whatever happens, I will not fall in love with the emo florist guy in booth 11.” 

Pidge looked down at his extended pinky finger, reluctantly wrapping their own around his. 

“Swear on your soul.” 

Lance smiled, ignoring the strange knot that formed in his chest as Pidge wrapped their pinky finger around his own. 

“I swear.”  

* 

Keith had no idea how long he’d been sat there, he had no real sense of his surroundings. He just traced each line of the mural on the wall, focusing on each detail. Looking over all the different types of ships. 

He’d always been a sucker for anything space related, and the style of this particular piece was so intricate. He was so interested in the story behind it, that he looked over every line to see if he could try and piece together some kind of narrative.  

Each time he tried, he was drawn back to the two people reaching for one another. At that space between the tips of their fingers. 

It took him a moment to realise that there was someone beside him, just out of the corner of his eye, he realised that his surroundings had changed. He looked to the side and blink a few times, bringing himself back to reality. 

He’d been focused on that tiny gap, that he hadn’t noticed Lance coming back.  

He had two cups in his hand and a small smile on his face, “You like what you see?” 

Keith stiffened, he felt his cheeks starting to redden, “Excuse me?”  

Lance gestured to the wall displaying the mural, “The art. Do you like it?” 

“Oh.”  

He could feel his brain getting ready to hit that self-destruct button, just delete itself in an attempt not to process where his mind had gone for that split second.  

He huffed a laugh at himself, before answering.  

“It’s beautiful.” 

Lance smiled brightly, he gestured for Keith to move over, putting down the drinks next to one another on the table. Keith awkwardly shuffled along, until he’d made enough room from Lance to take a seat next to him. 

Lance slid into the booth, sliding along one of the drinks as he did, until the cup containing black coffee sat in front of Keith.  

He wrapped his hands around the cup, the smell was strong and comforting, along with the heat the of the cup on his hands. “Thank you.”  

“Don’t mention it.” he said with a gentle smile.  

He moved his own cup closer to himself and blew on the foam-y top of the liquid before placing it back on the table.  

“Okay, so when this place was first opening, and everything was still in the stages of bare walls and empty floors – no coffee machine – nothing at all. The owner, Coran, was working on the design of the shop. The cups, the furniture, the windows, the overall image of the business - he’d thought of everything.” 

Keith watched as Lance went into the story, he didn’t know why he was telling him these things, but it was nice. Lance was sat so that he was facing him slightly, as he mentioned certain objects he’d gesture in their general directions, moving his hands with his words. 

“Except that he had these huge walls that he had no idea what to do with.” Lance said, gesturing at the wall with the mural once again, allowing Keith to realise where the story was going. “He knew he wanted to have a white theme overall, but he didn’t know what kind of art he wanted on the walls. He thought about a basic coffee design, you know, usual coffee shop art that you see in chain restaurants?”  

Keith nodded, blowing on his coffee and taking a small sip. It was still a little too hot to drink but it was strong and bitter, just how he liked it.  

“But he didn’t want to be that kind of coffee shop. Not some generic shop that you go to for your caffeine fix, you know?’ Keith nodded again. 

“He wanted it to be a place you could come to and find comfort. A place that had a story and everyone who came would be a part of that story, escape from the outside world and feel calm. Kind of like your shop, right?” 

He smiled, “Yeah, sounds familiar.” 

Lance scoffed, “Exactly.” 

He took a sip of his coffee before continuing his story, “Anyway, he wanted to make the kind of place he’d want to go to, which meant that he wanted art that told a story and drew him in. It took him weeks to think up a design. So, one night, he started thinking about the moon, and the stars, and then the planets, and then aliens and then about all the different kinds of aliens there could be.” 

There was a contained excited in Lance’s words, like he was trying to restrain himself from running through the story too fast and going into too much detail. He had a look in his eyes as he spoke that kept Keith’s smile on his face, it was hard not to, Lance’s enthusiasm seemed to radiate from him, absorbing Keith into every word he spoke.  

“So then, he thought about the stars and how amazing it must be to travel among them, going to undiscovered planets. He started thinking about what he would be like if he were from another planet, some kind of alien – how he would react if he met a human for first time. Anyway, he got super invested in this whole world, until eventually he thought up the design downstairs. This cool robot made up of five lions?” 

He pointed his thumb in the general direction of the mural Keith had seen when he’d first entered the store. Keith nodded again, it wasn’t that he couldn’t say anything, he just didn’t want to interrupt the flow of Lance’s story – he wanted to make sure Lance knew he had his full attention. 

“He never really goes into much detail about it – which, honestly, isn’t normal when it comes to Coran – so I assume it must mean something deeply to him.” 

Keith hummed. It was a beautiful piece and it didn’t really need much of an explanation beyond that, especially if it had a personal reason to the owner. 

“But,” he turned in his seat, taking another quick sip of his coffee. “Once, when we were working late, I was going through receipts and I got distracted by it. I asked him about the two people in the centre, why they-” He pointing to the suspended pair, to accentuate his point, “were the main focus of this one, when the other is pretty general, right?” 

Keith looked over at the mural, eyes tracing the lines of the characters hands as Lance continued. 

“He was kind of reluctant at first but then he started telling me about this dream he had, about his little world, and he said that there were these two boys that led the team. He said they were partners and it was them against the world, they supported one another, they grounded one another, they were there for each other.”  

Keith looked down at the cup in his hands, the overhead lights reflecting in the black liquid as the steam rose from it. He’d thought right about the characters in the mural. 

Lance sighed, “He told me he only got glimpses of them, but from what he saw, he knew they were in love. Although, that scene was the moment they’d finally accepted it and knew for sure what the other felt, but it was in their last moment.” 

Lance paused. Keith looked over at him, he was looking intently at the mural, “They died?” 

Lance looked at him with a sad smile and nodded, “It’s sad, but I don’t know what I really expected. I mean, it’s a love story with the only depiction of it being a war scene, so.” 

Keith hummed in agreement. He thought the story over whilst he took a sip of coffee, in his initial version he’d assumed they’d known how the other felt, that they were lovers. “He really got all that from a dream?” 

Lance hummed, “Yeah, he’s a pretty imaginative guy, I don’t know he never became a writer. He has a knack for storytelling.”  

He gave a soft laugh, “Not exactly the happiest topic for a lunch, huh?”  

“It interesting.” Keith said, “I was going to ask about it.” 

“Yeah,” Lance said, getting up and moving to sit opposite Keith. “Most people who come in are curious about it, it’s a lot easier to explain when there’s not a line of people impatiently waiting for coffee.” 

He smiled, “I’m sure.” 

Lance nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. He had no idea how Lance had managed to drink his drink this entire time, his own was still too hot and every tiny sip just managing not to burn his taste buds from his tongue.  

“How long have you worked here?” Keith asked. 

Lance put down his cupped and looked around the shop, he hummed around his mouthful full of coffee, seemingly thinking it over. He swallowed, looking back at Keith, “Around 4 years, I think. I’ve always kind of helped out. I worked here whilst I was finishing college and then started full time once I graduated. I had too many ideas of what I wanted to do with my life, it turned out that this was exactly what I’d wanted. What about you?”  

Keith looked down at his cup, thinking over his answer. It was a complicated story to summarise and he’d never really had much practice at it. It’s been a long time since he’d made new friends, the closest he’d had were returning customers, and the furthest the conversations would go would be surrounding the weather or how best to care for certain plants.

The more he thought about it the more depressing it sounded, but he was happy. He didn’t feel obligated to do anything he was uncomfortable with, he didn’t have to go through that awkward stage of when you first met someone and don’t know what the boundaries are. He was comfortable in his solitude.

How others perceived that was up to them, it was just how he liked things.

“Uh, I started working there a little after my brother had opened the shop, I’d just started college and I decided I’d rather be happy with what I was doing than spend 4 years doing something I didn’t enjoy. So, I quit and started working at my brother’s shop full time.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” He nodded, a soft smile on his face. “What’s the point if you’re not happy, right?”

“Exactly,” He said, mirroring the smile on Lance’s face with his own as he brought the cup to his lips. It was cool enough now that he could drink it, rather than the cup in his hands in an attempt to ground himself to the conversation.

He could feel Lance’s eyes on him as he lowered the cup, “How’s your coffee?”

“Pretty good,” He said with a smirk. “Great, considering the price.”

Lance scoffed, “You joke now, Keith, but you’ll be back when you start craving my expert coffee.”

Keith hummed sceptically, “Sure.” He doubted he’d be back here just for the coffee.

*

Following the deep opening of their conversation they’d moved into lighter topics, talking about nothing of any significance. Flowing from one story to another with a hint of light banter.

It was fun. It made Keith feel light and airy every time he’d make Lance laugh. 

Lance told him stories of when he first started at the coffee shop, how he’d almost cried after messing up an order on his first day.

How he’d spent his first 3 months known as ‘Rebecca’ whilst his name tag was being printed, which turned out to have been finished in two weeks and Lance’s boss had just found it funny to keep Lance wearing it.

He told him about how his co-worker had told him that they were dressing up for Halloween one year. And how, in an attempt to be witty, he’d come in a full barrister costume. Keith had choked on his coffee at the image of Lance coming into work in a wig and gown.

“They made me work the whole day wearing it, Keith!” Lance said, only sending Keith further into hysterics. “Have some sympathy!”

Keith had told him stories of his first days at the flower shop. How he had no idea what half the tools were for, how he’d gone through 8 rolls of ribbon before he’d managed to perfect a single bow.

How he’d covered his brother in fertiliser on his first delivery day and he’d been banished to the backroom to clean plant pots for 2 days afterwards.

“It was worth it.” Keith told Lance, with a smug grin. “The delivery guy lost it, he still brings it up whenever my brother’s there.”

And Shiro hated it.

Whenever Keith even tried to bring it up with anyone that wasn’t him or Adam, he’d get that warning look that said: ‘try it, see how it ends for you.’

He’d been helping the guy grab bags of fertiliser from the truck when Shiro had bent down to pick up a tray of succulents. To Keith’s luck, the thin plastic containing the dirt and manure had ripped, slipping from his hands and covering Shiro’s back in Keith’s attempts to stop it from spilling.

He’d froze, so had Shiro, dirt slowly cascading off his shoulders. But then the delivery guy had burst into a loud, hearty laugh, that had sent Keith into a fit of laughter also.

The look Shiro had given him when he’d finally stood up only made things worse for Keith, he’d known he was done for, but the delivery guy’s laughter was infectious.

It was only fair when a handful of dirt was thrown in his face and he’d been chased around the truck with the bag of remaining fertiliser.

Their conversation lulled Keith lost track of how long they’d been talking, he had no idea how long Lance had for lunch break, but it felt like they’d been there a long time.

 “It’s raining.” Lance said, drawing Keith’s attention to the back windows.

Now that Lance had pointed it out, the loud patter of raindrops against the glass filled the room. It had grown significantly darker than when he’d come in. He’d been so caught up in the conversation that he’d been completely occupied by it.

“Do you always bring the rain with you?” Lance asked with a smug smile.

Keith turned back to Lance, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m the reason for the rain?”

“It only rains when I see you.”

“And?” Keith scoffed. “It might be you.”

Lance opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by someone calling his name.

“Lance.”

The barista from earlier, Pidge, was walking towards their table.

“Can you come back on the machine? It’s fine, right now, but it’s gunna get pretty busy with this rain.” They stopped at the end of their table, arms on their hips as they spoke to Lance.

He could see they were exhausted from their stance, that light hunch in their shoulders as they rested their hands on their hips. The stance you do when you needed to be composed but also needed an 8-hour nap.

“Shit,” Lance said, “Yeah, of course. I lost track of time.”

“Yeah, I know,” the barista scoffed. “I tried to let you have a little longer than usual, but I don’t want to have to run off when we get a huge line.”

“How long have I been on break?”

“About 40 minutes.”

Lance’s eyes widened dramatically. Keith had no idea what the ‘usual’ allotted time they had for breaks was, so he had nothing to compare it to, he just looked between the two of them as they spoke.

“Pidge!” Lance said, standing up hurriedly. “Why didn’t you get me sooner?”

“It’s fine!” Pidge said. “There’s been like two people in since you left, an extra ten minutes wasn’t going to kill me.”

Lance scoffed, “I’m surprised you even lasted an extra two minutes.”

Pidge punched Lance lightly in the arm, before turning to go back downstairs. “Five minutes, Lance!”

“Five minutes.” Lance repeated as he sat back down, picking up his cup and drinking the remaining coffee, foam sticking to the corners of his mouth.

He tried to supress a smile as Lance wiped it away with his thumb, but as he did, Keith noticed a strand of red around Lance’s wrist, like red thread. Like the red thread he’d wrapped around his finger the other day.

He placed his cup back on the table, tugging at the sleeve of his coat in an attempt to conceal his own piece of thread.

He wondered briefly why Lance had decided to keep the thread. Maybe he’d kept it because of what Keith had said, as a reminder.

Keith didn’t entirely know why he’d kept his own piece.

After Adam had left, he’d gotten a call about an order for an anniversary bouquet. Distracted, he’d tied it around his wrist whilst the man had spoken, he could have just tossed it on the counter, thrown it away – but it felt significant, and he didn’t want it to get lost.

“Sorry,” Lance said, with a shy smile, foam now gone from his mouth. “I need to get back.”

“Of course, you don’t need to apologise.” Keith said, standing up. “It’s fine.”

Lance followed, “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.” Keith said, he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks but did his best to ignore it. “The coffee was great.”

“Of course, it was.” Lance said, leaning over the table to pick up their empty cups. “I made it.”

He stood, a cup in each hand, smiling smugly at Keith.

It was strangely irritating how endearing it was.

“Of course.” He said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Lance scoffed, turning to walk towards the stairs, Keith following behind him.

“I’ll just put these in the back,” Lance said, on their way down the stairs.

Keith nodded, “Okay.”

Lance moved behind the counter into the back room, leaving Keith stood to the side, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

There was no one ordering, which was lucky for Keith who was stood in front of the cake display.

Lance returned a second later, tying a clean apron around his waist.

“So,” he said, leaning on the counter. “Can I get you anything else to drink?”

Keith looked up at the board for a moment, before deciding against it, “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Lance said, deflating a little. “Of course.”

“Uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I’ll see you around?”

Lance smiled, standing up straight, “See you around, Keith.”

He waved awkwardly before turning around and walking towards the door, internally kicking himself at his awkward demeanour as he’d said goodbye.

He adjusted his coat, ready to step out into the rain, “Keith!”

He turned to see Lance wince, people in the shop had also turned to look at him, “Hold on.”

He stood. confused, hand on the door handle. People in the shop had turned to look at him, others going back to their conversations and work, whilst others looked between Keith and Lance.

Lance, who had grabbed a napkin and was leaning over the counter – he looked like he was writing something.

He caught the eye of a group of kids working, they hadn’t been there when he’d come in but they seem to have latched onto Keith’s current situation as a distraction from the books, papers and laptops in front of them.

Keith smiled at them, hoping his acknowledgement would prompt them to return to their work and realise that they’d been caught staring. A few turned back to their books, whilst the others murmured amongst themselves.

Lance moved around the counter, napkin in hand and a slight flush in his cheeks. He crossed the shop, meeting Keith at the door, extending his hand towards him.

“Here,” Keith looked down at Lance’s extended hand, the napkin had a number written in the top corner.

He took the napkin from Lance, looking over the number, and at the shoddily written name in capital letters – a smiley face beside it. It was all far too cute and effective at making Keith’s heart swell.

“We’re not allowed our phone’s whilst working, so,” he rubbed the back of his neck, similar to Keith a few moments prior. “You should message me. You know, just in case I never need flowers again or you hated my coffee.”

Keith rolled his eyes, folding the napkin and putting his hands in his pocket, napkin safely encased in his fingers. Safe from the rain that waited for him beyond the door of the shop.

“I didn’t hate your coffee.” He said, tilting his head slightly. “And everyone needs flowers at some point.”

Lance hummed, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Bye, Lance.” He said, opening the door slightly, he wondered if the students had watched the whole encounter, or if they kept their attention back on their work. He hoped they hadn’t noticed Keith blushing like a moron over a simple napkin.

“Bye.” Lance said, with a small wave, as Keith stepped out the door.

The rain wasn’t that bad, but it was windy, and it made him clutch the napkin tighter in his pocket. He didn’t look back at Lance as the door closed behind him, he just ducked his head and stepped out into the rain.

*

Why his building didn’t have an elevator with the price he paid for rent, Lance had no clue.

Each step up to the apartment was pure hell, his legs felt like someone had attached 50-pound weights to his ankles. His thighs calves burned, and he felt like every bone in his body needed to crack.

It had to be one of the longest days he’d had in weeks.

Not that it was a necessarily _bad_ day. It was just that a there had been so much happening that it was overwhelming.

The usual thing had happened, where Lance would point out that he doubted it would get any busier, and then a swarm of 40 customers would come through the door.

While he did enjoy the rush, having to think through each step to get drinks out as fast and efficiently as possible – he didn’t enjoy the lack of empathy from the customers.

Oh, you have 30 drinks you need to make – include my own – I’m going to complain and add to the problem and further delay everyone’s drinks. But, hey, who cares? Am I right, Kelly?

He fumbled around in his pocket for his keys as he reached his floor, he’d thought about nothing but a hot both since he’d filled the mop bucket with warm, soapy water. Which shouldn’t have been appealing considering the soapy water was full of cleaning chemicals.

When he’d reached the door, he made sure to check it wasn’t already unlocked. There’d been countless times where Hunk had already been home, and he’d been stood at the door trying to force his key in the lock when it was already unlocked and there was a key in the other side.

It was locked, meaning either Hunk wasn’t home, or he was in his room.

The flat was quiet when he opened the door, the kitchen light was on, but he couldn’t really hear if Hunk was home with his earphones in.

He nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, taking off his coat and bag and hanging them on the hooks beside the door.  

The song he was listening to had finished and a new song by and older artist started playing. A mellow tune with a deep voice sang in his ears.

He moved to the kitchen to get a glass of water, free coffee was great until you’d had four cups before noon and you spent the day shaky and dehydrated.

As he pulled a glass from the cupboard, he thought about the lyrics of the song – running the tap until the water ran cold. It played often when he was working, it was one of Coran’s favourites and had been the soundtrack to their many late nights in the coffee shop.

He thought about the title, which then led him to think about Keith’s drink order. _Black Coffee_.

His mind wandering to his lunch break, the soft blush present in Keith’s cheeks the entire time, how he’d listened to his story with genuine interest. How he’d lightly sipped on his coffee every time he wasn’t speaking.

A fondness settled in his chest and he felt a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he ran through the conversations they’d had. Until he felt something small and hard hit the back of his head.

He ripped out his earphones turning his head to see Hunk standing behind the counter with a bag of Skittles in his hand.

“Ow.”

Hunk scoffed, “It didn’t hurt that bad.”

He spotted the green Skittle on the floor, swiftly moving to pick it up and throw it back at Hunk.

“Ow, okay,” he said, rubbing at the spot where it had hit his cheek. “That does hurt.”

Lance chuckled, leaning on the counter as he watched Hunk search the floor for the Skittle.

“What were you smiling about anyway?” Hunk said, bending down to pick up the skittle from beneath one of the chairs and popping it into his mouth.

“That’s disgusting.”

“I’ve cleaned.” He shrugged.

“It’s still gross.”

“Don’t avoid my question.” Hunk said, taking a seat. “What were you smiling about?”

He took a slow sip of his water before answering, he knew if he mentioned Keith, it’d be misinterpreted, and he’d get another lecture about heartbreak. He also knew, if he didn’t mention Keith, Pidge would tell Hunk anyway and he’d be caught in the same situation.

“My future husband,” Hunk’s eyes widened dramatically, causing Lance to spit the water he’d drank back into his cup. “I’m joking, Hunk! How could you even tell if I was smiling? I had my back to you.”

“I can tell.” Hunk said, popping a few more Skittles in his mouth. “Spill.”

Lance sighed, tipping his water in the sink and rinsing his glass. “I had lunch with my friend Keith.”

“Keith?”

“The florist.”

“Oh.” Hunk smirked. “ _Keith.”_

“Shut up.”

Hunk chuckled, sliding the bag of Skittles across the counter, “So, movie?”

He picked out a few red ones from the packet, popping one in his mouth. “Yes. Right after I take a bath, I stink.”

“You do.”

“Pick something good.” He called, as he left the kitchen.

“Fight Club?”

“No!”

Once he’d bathed, changed and completed his skincare routine, he returned to the living room. Where Hunk had set up popcorn and a movie, paused at the opening credits.

“What are we watching?” He said, as he fell back onto the sofa beside Hunk, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table.

“Game Night.” Hunk said, not looking up from his phone.

“Awesome.”

Hunk finished typing something before locking his phone and throwing it to the side. He picked up the remote in between them and hit play on the movie.

It was only a few minutes in when Lance felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, taking it out absentmindedly as they laughed at the characters climbing through the window.

He glanced down at his phone to see he’d received a message from an unknown number. He was confused for a moment, before remembering his flustered attempt at giving Keith his number.

The abrupt feeling of panic as Keith had turned to leave and he’d realised he no longer have any reason to run into him ever again.

Unless by sheer chance.

But Lance didn’t trust chance, if he liked you, you’d know about it.

If he didn’t, you’d also know.

The look Pidge had given him as he’d made his way back to the counter made him think he shouldn’t have done it.

But reading the message on his screen, he didn’t regret it at all.

 **Unknown:** not a single drop of rain since I left your store, which means you are entirely responsible for the rain

He smiled fondly at the screen, recalling their brief talk about how the rain seemed to come with each of their encounters.

His phone buzzed again before he could unlock it.

 **Unknown:** it’s keith btw

He unlocked the phone, quickly saving the contact under the name ‘keith’ with a little tulip emoji, before typing out a response

 **Lance:** that's entirely coincidence keith !

 **Lance:** i'm not the weather man, u can't put the blame on me !!

He huffed a laugh at his own messages, locking his phone again to return to the movie. Until a few moments later when it buzzed again. 

 **Keith:** uh sure

 **Lance:** you don't sound very convinced :/

 **Keith:** i'm not

He smiled at the small banter, Keith had been oddly guarded and quieter than most people he knew. Almost everyone he knew was loud, in their own way. Besides his family, who he'd inherited his loud and flamboyant personality from.

Pidge was pretty vocal if they were angry at something.

Hunk was loud when it came to affection.

Coran was the most similar to himself, he was loud when he got excited. He was always the one keeping everyone positive, no matter how dire the situation. 

Allura wasn't loud in volume, but her personality blossomed with everything she did. She had such passion and determination for the things she loved, and the people she cared about.

It was one of the main reasons why he'd developed feelings for her. Not just a crush, but genuine feelings. 

His other friends seemed to bounce off his personality, making their interactions obnoxiously loud, so he had no comparison for whether they were loud people or not. 

But Keith, on the other hand. 

He was quiet. He was mild, he had a stormy air about him that was both unnerving and mystifying. It was all incredibly intriguing to Lance, and he hoped that he'd get to learn more about that boy and flowers.

Which was why he'd expected much more rigid messages from him. Not an instant back and forth on something they'd only established that lunch time. 

Hunk let out a bellowing laugh at whatever was happening in the movie, he'd stopped paying attention. Instead trying to think of witty things to respond to Keith's messages.

 **Lance:** maybe we're both to blame, i think we need a new weather forecast

"Dude, who are you messaging?" Hunk asked, bringing his attention back from the small rectangular world of his phone screen. 

 "No one," he said, locking the phone and putting it down on the couch. 

Hunk hummed skeptical, as the phone buzzed again. He glanced at Hunk, checkinf his eyes were on the screen before, glancing down at the phone. ****

 **Keith:** how about snow? 

Lance smiled widely, unable to contain it - despite Hunk calling him out on it.

"Is it flower boy?" Hunk sang, leaning over to peak at Lance's phone.

Lance moved it under his thigh, obscuring his view if any notifications came through. "Maybe."  

Hunk clicked his fingers in Lance's face before leaning back and turning his attention back to the the film, "I knew it."

" _How?_ _"_

Hunk didn't respond, just tapped his index finger to the side of his nose. 

He scoffed, picking up the phone again, now that it was safe from Hunk's intrigue. 

 **Lance:** i don't think your flowers would appreciate that 

 **Keith:** screw the flowers, a snow day is much better

 **Lance:** YES!!!! SNOW DAY !! 

 **Keith:** exactly

He wondered why a florist had chosen snow of all things, he'd expected they'd be in agreement that sun was the _only_ valid option. But he could live with snow. 

Maybe even the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is interested in being a beta reader for this fic dm me on tumblr: keithkxgne


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